


Outlander

by GreaterGoodIreland



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Industrial Revolution, Autobiographical, F/M, Gun Violence, Mages (Dragon Age), Modern Character in Thedas, Multi, Orlais, Politics, Polyamorous Character, Polyamory, Pre-Dragon Age: Inquisition
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2019-08-17 10:17:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 57
Words: 240,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16514459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreaterGoodIreland/pseuds/GreaterGoodIreland
Summary: An United Nations Peacekeeper without knowledge of the games is transported to Thedas. Unsure if he will ever be able to return, he is sucked into the conflicts of Thedas as he tries to survive with his new companions and build a new world.





	1. Dragons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **AUTHOR'S FOREWORD:** Most stories where a person from our world enters the world of Dragon Age seem to have someone familiar with the video game as the protagonist. If done right, that's very entertaining, but it skews the perception a little bit.  
> So here's a story about someone who has no idea about Dragon Age's lore or storylines, thrust into that world head-first. That said, he has skills and knowledge that could greatly change things, but those will bring their own challenges and obstacles. It'll intersect heavily with DA: Inquisition's timeline, starting a good bit before those events, as I think that is the most interesting time for someone like this character to appear.  
> I'll be re-editing and posting the chapters as quickly as I can, but the volumes are up in the first chapter to give you a taste of what is to come.
> 
>  
> 
> __**DISCLAIMERS ABOUT CONTENT** No, this won't be a fic about a guy going around smiting everything with machineguns. Though obviously there will be a little of it, that's not really the point.  
> Also, a warning about the tone of this story. Bad things will happen down the line. That is why this story is marked M.  
> I hope you enjoy it!

**Outlander: The Peacekeeper's Tale**

_This autobiography is part-confession, part-warning._

_For readers from Thedas, it is the former. Among you, there are many who hate me, and many who seem to think I am some sort of hero. While not as famous as the Inquisitor for instance, almost everyone has heard of me to my eternal embarrassment. Usually by my title rather than my actual name. Both enemies and friends seem to assume things on the basis of falsehoods or the convenient bending of truth by either my enemies or supporters. So, for you Thedosians, I have decided to set down in writing my own account of what I have seen and done, to set the record straight. I also wish to entertain you, as more often than not, you have been hospitable hosts and brave comrades-in-arms._

_For readers from elsewhere, this also serves as a warning. A cautionary tale about the dangers and inconveniences you'll face for trying to change things in Thedas. A certain group of horned zealots might learn quite a bit, but I doubt they can tear their heads out of their asses long enough to take heed. You can take it either as a guide, to steer you clear of some of the mistakes I have made, or as a discouragement against following in my footsteps. As you choose._

* * *

Volumes to be posted

_**Volume One: Dragons and Other Oddities - Chapter One onwards** _

_**Volume Two: Orlais  
** _

_**Volume Three: Rebellion  
** _

_**Volume Four: Revolution  
** _

_**Volume Five: Ferelden  
** _

_**Volume Six: The Conquest of Paradise** _

* * *

**Chapter One: Dragons**

My first lesson about Thedas was a brutal one, and became something I have held onto closely over the years as I have tried to do my best. Needless to say, I could have had no inkling as to the full extent of its importance until my arrival on this continent. I have followed the principle to varying degrees throughout the course of my life thus far, sometimes failing to go far enough and at other times going too far, only to make things worse. Despite the failures, it's helped me survive against a myriad of threats, ranging from bandits and highwaymen through rebel mages and rogue templars all the way to darkspawn and the machinations of both the Inquisition and supposedly-dead magisters. My first real glimpse of this place I now call home pretty much trumps all of them regardless, as does my association with some of the most excellent people I have ever met.

Of course, the lesson is "Always expect the unexpected."

Unfortunately, the unexpected can completely blindside you, throwing you into circumstances beyond all planning. Watching a dragon pound towards me, shaking the ground with its every step and roaring, definitely qualifies for that category. This was a very new problem, as up until that point, dragons had existed only in stories and certainly did not roam around forests with broods of young, burning prey alive and eating them. Finding out they're very real first-hand is a unique experience to say the least. Had I been alone, or unarmed, needless to say I would have died very quickly.

I suppose at this point, before I get into the details of how I arrived, I should get the most unbelievable point out of the way, the reason why I am writing this account of my life. I don't know how else to say it, so I just will. I am not of this world.

I don't mean that I was just born outside of Thedas, although I pretended that was the case for a very long time, nor I am not some creature from the Fade in human form. I mean that before I was taken to this world, I lived in an entirely different one. Different perhaps is too weak a word, given just how many differences there are. My original world has many names in many languages, but in the common tongue of this world, it would be called Earth. How I travelled from there to here remains a mystery to me, although I do know the why and the Fade is involved, as you'll see.

On to my kidnapping.

* * *

My world, like this one, had many wars and conflicts. Politics naturally seems to cultivate them, regardless of the differences between the worlds in how they're fought. I found myself on battlefields, as a result both of my ambition and education. The job was as a "peacekeeper", which I can only say were closest thing we had to Grey Wardens. The title and what they do is probably familiar to all who know of me; our job was to protect civilians and foster peace, broadly speaking. Traditionally, these would be soldiers of different nations' armies. I was a new kind, one recruited directly by the organisation responsible for it, somewhat like how the Inquisition recruits.

It happened when we were flying into a village we were supposed to protect, using a machine called a helicopter. On Earth, we had many technological wonders like that, but they were so common as to be almost boring. The proof on that front is that I was not enjoying the ride. I had been ordered against my will to join the soldiers to watch over some people in a warzone. The problem was that the place was probably going to burn to the ground, and there was little I could do. I complained before we left to my superior, but the fat colonel in charge from a country that will remain nameless fobbed me off with a platitude about duty. I was sorely tempted to fob him off with my fist, or tell him to take his fat ass to the front, but I preferred to keep my job. And remain out of prison.

To add insult to injury, we were packed in pretty tight with big boxes of weapons and supplies. The company wasn't great either, the crew of the machine being preoccupied with keeping us airborne and the squad of soldiers along for the ride remained sullen and silent throughout. Didn't really blame either party for it though. Flying isn't simple, and the country we were in was just a big desert for the most part. Uncomfortably hot, and full of people that hated us. It was an hour's worth of travel, and boredom set in quickly. I took a nap, thinking I would need it. I was having a very nice dream about someone I had met back at the outpost too. Until someone decided to interrupt it.

The whole wretched machine started shuddering violently.

I woke up, my vision blurring slightly. The shaking was very rapid, so much so you could feel it in your bones. Yet it didn't throw anyone around, people could still stand up if they wanted to. I remember being at a complete loss as to what was happening as I woke.

"Are we under attack?" I asked the sergeant.

The soldier looked out to check for himself, and turned back with a dissatisfied glance towards me before getting out of his seat to talk to the one controlling the helicopter. So, he had no idea, I thought as I looked out the window myself. The first premonition that something truly catastrophic was about to happen ran through me, as the shuddering got progressively worse.

"What the hell is going on?" the sergeant asked the pilot, roaring the question over the noise of both the mechanisms and the knocking of metal.

"Turbulence?" the pilot replied, his answer far more of a guess than a statement of fact. Considering how low we were flying, the chances it was the air disturbing the flight was unlikely. There was no extreme weather when we started, just blistering sunlight. I knew that, because I had to for the job. I craned my neck to get a look at the pilot. He appeared to be panicking, which almost threw me into a panic. Thankfully, his crewmate was much more collected.

"If you're not buckled up, get your seatbelts on."

And so we all made sure we were strapped into our seats tightly, fiddling with extra belts and sending looks in the direction of the heavy boxes. It was like transporting raw lyrium. If they didn't explode, they could still crush us if they got loose. I tried hard not to think about either scenario, instead trying to figure out what was happening. A task which was getting more difficult by the second. Some of the younger soldiers were shouting, the sergeant screaming at them to shut up as they did so.

The entire machine was surrounded by a baleful green light, sparking like lightning but flowing like water. It covered the metal surrounding us and shimmered menacingly.

That was when everyone got scared. The sergeant, the pilots, the soldiers, all the faces I could see were twisted with fear. I can't help but admit that I myself would have given anything to get the hell out of there at that moment. The windows went dark for several minutes, and when the light returned, a sensation of falling rapidly hit us like a hammer-blow. The green light began piercing through the space, tearing small holes in the sides of the aircraft and missing our bodies by mere inches. I clenched my teeth hard, closed my eyes and waited for it to stop, unsure if I'd ever open them again but not wanting to look at the horrors.

I thought it was some kind of new weapon. I was wrong.

As quickly as it had started, the shuddering and green light stopped. The falling kept up only for the briefest time. The machine crashed hard, the force attempting to throw us around. I heard the groaning of the metal as the impact buckled the floor and a banging noise that was deafening for about a minute. The helicopter decelerated slowly after the impact, before finally coming to an abrupt halt with a crunching noise.

* * *

I raised my head, shaking off the disorientation of the crash as best I could. I smelt a mix of iron and plant-life, proving I was still alive at least. As I realised this, my chest started to throb with pain. I quickly removed the restraints of the chair and checked the damage. I was bruised everywhere, and it hurt badly, but I was still able to move. Great, you're alive, now what about the others?

I looked over to check. I found the soldiers groggily getting out of sitting positions, staggering around as they got their bearings again. They quickly began checking their weapons, a sure sign that they were fine. I breathed a sigh of relief. Being left alone to fend off attackers or the deadly environment was something I was very glad to be spared.

"They're dead," said the sergeant, "And I don't think it was the crash."

I looked at him like he had three heads, wondering who he was talking about. A nod directs my attention to the front cabin.

I turned my head, and find the crew. The the entire forward area was crushed and mangled, as if something had bashed and clawed at it. There was nothing left but a mesh of metal, with blood seeping out of it. I recoiled from the sight. How I had not seen it out of the corner of my eye, I do not know. It was so close that I could reach out and touch it from my seat, if I had wanted to. I stood up, and examined it further. It didn't look like there would be anything to bury.

"I guess we're not flying out of here," I said, returning to the sergeant.

"You haven't seen the best part yet," the man replied, his voice positively dripping with accented sarcasm. Making his way past the soldiers, he walked to the back past the cargo and handcranked open the large exit ramp. It fell to the ground with a thud, and revealed something truly astonishing.

Where there used to be a desert that stretched on for hundreds of miles, a lush oak forest stood. Birds chirping away and all. It was a paradise.

My first thought was that we had landed in an oasis of some sort, some artificial creation of a rich warlord he had created for his own amusement. However, when I looked out, examining the ground and the foliage, I could see no signs of anything remotely artificial to it. Trees wove around each other at random, the brush was thick and untamed, and there was absolutely no geometric pattern to the growth. There were also no men rushing us with weapons, or surprised civilians wandering to see why we'd crashed. My mind raced, as the lower ranked soldiers pushed their way past me. We have a phrase where I'm from, "to enter the twilight zone", which means to discover something so absurd that you think you are dreaming or have gone mad. It is the only thing I can think of to describe my thoughts as I stepped forwards.

The sergeant picked his helmet off his head, showing a shaved head that would have otherwise been balding, and walked out into the sunlight. I followed him, and immediately noticed the intense heat had disappeared. The air was more refreshing, courtesy of a light breeze. The sun wasn't bearing down on us from above, but was lower and the trees provided a good amount of shade. Some of the plant life was torn to shreds, probably by our landing. I stepped onto thick grass, and wandered around for a bit. The others were doing the same thing, examining the trees and ground not with the eye of a soldier, but almost like children. The group spread out, taking in the sights and smells for some time. Before the youngest soldier spoke out, his eyes wide with worry.

"Sarge, where are we?" he said, his voice almost breaking, "What was that green light?"

The spell of the new environment was broken, and the soldiers returned, their faces hardened again.

"Stow it, Patel," came the sergeant's reply, in a firm tone, "We're alive, that's what matters."

"Are we still in enemy territory?" asked another, a particularly tall one with the biggest weapon.

"We have to assume we are, no matter how weird things have gotten," the sergeant continued, "Davis, Murphy, get up on that outcrop of rock over there and set up a nest in case we have company. Bell, Hamilton, get the boxes out and bust open a couple, there should be a radio in one of them. Patel, you bring Miller and have a look around, since you're so interested in where we are. And be careful, I don't think the desert camouflage is going to be much use here."

The young soldier nodded rapidly, taking a gulp of air before taking a slap to the back that forced it out again. Apparently, Miller was enthused by the prospect of having a gander around the place. As I watched the pair walk off, weapons held at the ready, I felt an urge to go along. I began walking to follow, but the sergeant grabbed my shoulder to stop me.

"The name's Fraser," he said, with a big smile on his face, "And you're going to help me destroy the cargo."

We couldn't have known it, but he probably saved my life with that action. I didn't appreciate it however, and shook his hand off quickly. He was inferior in rank to me by all standards, but his smile sent a very clear message. Fall into line like the others, I am in charge here. Displeased by his presumption, I determined to poke holes in his plan. Never let it be said that I am humble.

"If we burn anything, that will draw the enemy to us," I said, facing him, "We'll be outnumbered and surrounded."

"Can't let the weapons fall into enemy hands," he replied insistently, "We destroy them and then move to high ground, try and get a radio signal."

A radio, for future reference, is a way of talking to people over long distances using alchemical means. However, it can be unreliable, and often works best the higher up you are. As for Fraser's plan, I had exactly zero desire to get caught in a glorious last stand, or a fight of any kind in a strange place with no backup. Without knowing where we were going, there was no way we would outrun an attacker, and we could blunder straight into an ambush. I wanted to live to tell someone about what had happened to us. Perhaps it was my dislike for the man's idea at that moment, but I thought him far too confident in his own abilities. I could see that simply repeating my concern about being discovered wasn't going to work.

"What happens if we don't make contact? We can hide the weapons in case we don't find anyone friendly out there," I said, changing tack, "I think I saw some decent sized caves under the outcrop, we can dump these into one, find our bearings and come back if we need to fight."

The sergeant put his hand on his chin, and glanced over at the rocks. I followed his view. The two he had sent to prepare a defensive position were busy piling up stones in a circle at the top for cover, one whistling as he did so. Remarkably casual of him, I thought at the time. Fraser watched them work for a little while, his eyes scanning the rock below them on occasion, before he finally returned his gaze to me.

"You're quite good, for a blue hat," he said, pointing to the light blue beret stuffed under my shoulder strap. I smirked. He had somehow warmed up to me, and I couldn't help but reciprocate a little. Though I think half of it was pleasure at getting my way. He marched over to a box, and handed me a better weapon than the one strapped to my hip.

"Here, make yourself useful," he said as I took it, "I'll have Hamilton help you drag these into the cave to the left there." He pointed to indicate where exactly he wanted to hide the supplies, before moving to the men in question, huddling around the radio equipment.

I sighed, slinging my weapon over my back. The boxes were far from light lifting. However, with Hamilton's help, it was easy going. We hauled most of the supplies into the cave, balancing them on our shoulders before placing them near the back of the cave, where they were least likely to be seen. I even took the time to bury them a little in dirt and vines. I was more than a little paranoid. I started second-guessing myself, thinking I might be killed by some fanatic using the weapons I had hid. I was still under the impression that this was still somehow the fault of a faction in my old world.

* * *

We were almost finished when the ruckus started.

It started with a thudding sound in the distance, like a deep drum very far off. It started slow at first, so much so that I had barely registered it. I nonetheless stopped moving, listening out of curiosity more than fear. A minute passed, and it still sounded like a drum, but it was getting closer.

"Gentlemen, take your positions," said Fraser, pulling his own weapon off his back roughly.

Everyone stopped what they were doing. The men who had built their little fort on top of the ridgeline crouched behind the rocks, pointing their instruments of death around for a target to hit. The others around me ran hard to join them, opting for the safety of the high-ground. I was closest to the noise, and waited for some sign. The beat stopped soon after, but I didn't get up from my hiding spot nor check if the others had. I had a gut feeling that it was the harbinger of something else. I was right. A screeching shout like nothing I had ever heard before came over the top of the trees. It almost seemed to go through me, grating the ear like glass being shattered. The thudding got faster and louder.

My eyes searched everywhere for the source, but I saw nothing. The range of sounds expanded as well, the booming joined by a scrabbling that seemed to punctuate each beat of whatever the hell was making the sounds. I couldn't get my head around what it was. No war machine in my world sounded like that on the move or on the attack, and the closest thing I could compare it with then or now was the sound of horses' hooves on soft ground. If there were a thousand of them. That theory didn't hold up past the first few seconds of it entering my head, and the vibrations off the ground started gaining too.

An acrid smell carried itself on the breeze, reaching my nose. Burning wood, mixed with something I couldn't identify exactly but could only be an incendiary. A bolt of fear went up my spine. Was the enemy attempting to burn down the forest to smoke us out? We wouldn't last very long against a large number of troops if we had to move out of where we were. The smell filled my mouth as I took a breath to steady myself, realising that I stuck out like a sore thumb in front. My original intention had been to catch whoever came to attack by surprise as they concentrated on Fraser's men, but that plan looked increasingly like a bad idea.

Along came Patel, sprinting at full pace, soaked with sweat and covered in dirt. His face was one of complete panic. His eyes almost bulged out of his head, as he swung it back and forth between looking where he was going and trying to see what was behind him. In other words, he was leading whatever the hell was chasing him right to us.

I stood up and waved him over, resisting the urge to shout at him for his stupidity. He ran over, panting almost like a dog. I grabbed him, and pulled him behind the rock I had emerged from using my full weight. He sat hyperventilating, his eyes rolling around in the direction he had come as he tried to get up again. I pushed him to the floor hard, and he cried out in pain. I grabbed his water flask off his belt and handed it to him, as an apology.

"What happened?" I asked, as he drank deeply, gulping down the cool liquid.

"Miller's dead," he rasped, "He's dead. It killed him, roasted him. It's huge."

He shook his head from side to side, hand clasped to the side of his helmet. I looked back at Fraser, who was watching intently. I mouthed to him that Miller was dead, adding in a cut-throat gesture to make sure he knew what I was getting at. Even from a decent distance, I saw his features harden. I turned back to Patel, and asked if it was some sort of war machine with a flamethrower device. He just kept shaking his head, throwing in a soft moan of "No" every few seconds. I thought he had lost it entirely, but I soon saw there was good reason to go mad. It swung into view through the treeline some distance away, gaining my attention by smashing through the trees themselves. I peered over the rock ever so slightly.

* * *

It was a dragon.

It was jet-black, except for a red tongue. Its head tilted around, as if curious as to where its prey had went. The beast had huge bones that grew out of the side of its skull and extended far past the back of it, shaped almost like bulls' horns. Its eyes were black too, and peered out over a snout containing a multitude of huge, knife-like teeth. Behind, a long, thick neck was attached to a lizard's body. It extended to a huge muscular tail. Grey wings sprouted from the shoulders of the thing on another set of black limbs. Huge claws tipped its other extremities, gripping the brown soil as it walked.

I sat back down behind the rock, numb with shock. The fear of death was there, but I had dealt with that before and overcome it. I still believed we could survive the encounter, however long the odds. Warriors of my world are mighty. No, what struck me almost to the point of uselessness was that I had realised what I should have immediately. There are no dragons on Earth. Tales about them were entirely the product of men's minds, no evidence of them had ever been found. They didn't exist, in other words. We were on another world, without any way of getting back. This was actually off the mark, as I would later discover, as I was further from home than even that. For a minute, all I could think about was how it was even possible. Instant travel between worlds was deemed impossible by our scholars, as far as I knew. The green energy that had stolen us from our home betrayed none of its secrets.

"It's a dragon," whispered Patel, tears and despair in his eyes. I don't think the young soldier had ever saw real combat, never mind a comrade in arms killed. I felt sorry for him, but I didn't need him attracting the damn beast either.

"Yeah, I saw," I growled back, "Don't move, I don't think it's seen us yet."

"OPEN FIRE!" roared Fraser, the others preferring the action to the words. The cliff-face erupted in a cacophony of noise and flashes, as the soldiers began to fight. Some might ask if that was a stupid move, attacking instead of hiding, but knowing what I know now, the thing would have found our scent pretty quickly. Except it would have been closer, and we would be fried. So my compatriots' actions were pretty much the only option we had; try and bring it down before it killed us.

The weapons of my world are unlike anything seen in Thedas, with one exception. For lack of a better term, they are repeating firelances or handcannons. The types used by footsoldiers can mow down entire groups of men at a time, and hit individual targets at a distance that an archer or crossbowman could only dream of. And those are only weapons that are held by a single soldier. Larger firelances and cannons, often mounted on war-machines, can destroy entire buildings or entire armies with a mere handful of shots. The Qunari have at various times attempted to develop a firelance, a smaller version of their own cannons. My people's weapons make the Qunari look like a tribe of witless morons throwing rocks by comparison, and those are just the firelances. Three hundred Orlesian _chevaliers_ could have charged us on horseback, in full armour of the highest quality, and Fraser's soldiers would have cut them down in a matter of seconds.

The dragon didn't get that message.

It began to march through the hail of the firelances, letting out a deep growl as the shots impacted its body. It did not relent a single inch. It closed its eyes and mouth shut, and waded on through the hellstorm unleashed against it. Dark ichor poured from handfuls of wounds, but it pressed on. I watched in horror, my confidence ebbing away with every step the foul creature made towards the cliff, replaced with the feeling of my heart attempting to escape my chest. Patel grabbed at me in terror, but I held him off. My eyes glued themselves to the dragon's approach, my head barely held high enough to see over the top. We were an easy target compared to the others.

The firing slowed. All but one of the soldiers began to reload their weapons.

The dragon reared up, and let out a huge roar. It had found an opening. It stretched out its neck, and its mouth gaped open. The soldiers ducked behind their makeshift wall, as a stream of fire sprayed out at them. The trees behind them blazed, the fire sticking, but it was obvious that the dragon wasn't close enough. The edge of the cliff protected against the flames.

When the dragon stopped, the soldiers rose again with a shout of their own, a mix of curses and incoherent noise. It began forwards again, responding to their challenge with a roar of its own. They unleashed their second barrage. It had walked close enough that I began to hear the bullets impact the body of the beast, wet thumping just barely audible over the firelances. It was getting very close indeed at this point, and I started to worry that it would see Patel and I in our hiding spot.

I pivoted from the carnage in front of me, searching for somewhere better. The helicopter, smashed against the cliff, was the only option and it was a bad one. It would have turned into an oven for us. The cliffs themselves cut us off from the directions we could have run, the rest of the forest being far too close to the dragon for comfort. The frustration overruled my fear for a moment, and I kicked the ground hard, almost hitting Patel. I glanced at the poor fellow as an apology, but found our salvation. He had it with him the whole time. That made me want to shoot him myself, but he was sobbing and calling for his mother quietly. He was done, or so I thought. I refrained from following my instinct, I peeked over the top to see if we'd have time to carry out my plan.

The shooting was taking its toll on the beast. It was wobbling on its legs slightly, as they had sprouted several dozen bloody holes in the minutes before. Worth a shot, I decided. I pulled Patel away from the rock and into the forest when I was sure the dragon wouldn't see. It pounded forwards, getting dangerously close to Fraser and his men. It seemed obsessed, as I had hoped for. "Just keep on moving along, little fire wyrm," I kept thinking, as I took the weapon off of Patel's back.

It was a rocket launcher, a far more destructive weapon than a firelance or even the rockets you occasionally see used by the Qunari Navy. It is the basis of the fireworks that many now enjoy, I might add, though enjoyment is far from its original purpose. Contained in a tube, the rocket was designed to punch through the reinforced composite armours of my world's war machines. No kind of flesh could resist it, not even dragonhide. I had no idea why Patel hadn't tried to use it before, and as I said, I was enraged at him for it. Unfortunately, I would discover that he never got the opportunity and I would be saddled with a guilt that I still cannot shake even all these years later.

As I readied the weapon, disaster struck.

The dragon rushed the last hundred yards, half-jumping and half-flying, landing right below where it needed to be. I watched from the side as it rose onto its hind legs, its chest level with the top of the cliff. I thought it would simply burn the men alive, but it dragged its huge arms across the top of the cliff, rolling them down onto the ground. I hurried, but knew I would be too late to save all of them.

The sergeant got up and used his firelance again, but the dragon responded with lethality. It tore him in half with its jaws, spitting out his upper half with quarts of blood. The others spread out, backing off while firing, somehow still determined to fight. The dragon summoned its breath one last time, and caught them all as it arced the fire from one of the poor souls to the next. I felt nothing at that moment, high with combat fever and filled with hate.

Their deaths gave me the opportunity to kill it.

As it stood still to attack, I shot the rocket at the dragon. The blast from its propellent boomed behind me as it left its tube, the cliff echoing it back to me. The rocket detonated into the dragon's body, just below the wings held upwards in a display of intimidation.

I cursed, tossing the empty launcher away to the ground. I had been aiming for the neck, hoping to choke it or suffocate it on its own blood. The dragon had hopped forward slightly to kill Murphy, just before I fired. However, it soon became apparent that I had hit something important. The wound began seeping blood at a rapid rate, the ichor almost like a waterfall over its scales. It turned in a haze towards me. It screeched at us, failing to summon more fire to turn me to ash. Patel joined me in staring it down, his weapon held at shoulder height. It took two steps towards us and fell, and started breathing heavily.

I walked towards the dragon, unslinging my firelance as I moved. As I neared, its head twitched towards me, and with a great snap, it tried to bite me. It missed, and slumped to the ground again. I smiled, probably closer to a snarl if I'm being honest, and levelled my weapon at its eye. It looked at me with resignation, but I felt no pity after what I had just witnessed. I shot it repeatedly point-blank. Its breathing stopped immediately.

I felt relief for only the briefest of moments.

Behind me, I heard another screech, far less potent but just as terrifying, followed by Patel shooting his weapon. I swivelled on the spot, firelance ready. The dragon had not been alone. From the brush behind, about six dragonlings were emerging from the brush and charging us down. The group were very much the offspring of their mother, being jet-black, horned animals with big claws, but almost all of them lacked wings. They were about the size of a wolf. I backed off, and shouted to Patel to do the same. The one that had the means to fly came right at me from on top of the very rock I had hid behind moments before.

I shot it on reflex, hitting its left wing. It flinched in mid-jump, and tumbled out of the air. I felt a sense of victory instantly, but I suspected afterwards that I was still buzzing on my fight or flight response. As if to piss me off, the winged one recovered before I could get another decent shot off, rolling over and getting back on its feet. The damned thing hissed at me as it dodged one way and the other. To make matters worse, its brother decided I was easier prey than Patel, and growled as it wandered over. Caught between the two of them, I was forced to act or get eaten.

Watching the newcomer in the corner of my eye, I charged at the winged one. Startled, it held still for a moment, unsure of what to do. I took the chance and shot it, getting about five good hits along its flank and one on its head. The headshot ricocheted off, which disturbed me more than a little, but the others turned the hissing winged lizard into a whimpering, dying creature. I delivered the coup de grace quickly with another burst from my firelance. The other one lunged at me ferociously while my back was turned. I barely escaped by jumping over the corpse of its sibling. A feeling of elation at getting away causing me to chuckle, as the newcomer tried to circle the body in its way.

I glanced over at Patel. He was holding off four of them through sheer will. Sure he was about to run out of things to shoot at them any moment soon, I readied myself for the inevitable assault. The second dragonling finally deemed it okay to jump on top of its sister's corpse. I pretended to flee, which was the first thing I could think of. The dragonling sprung forward in triumph, voicing its pleasure at my capitulation with an almost gleeful roar. I turned around quickly, and shot at its mouth. Some of the bullets burst through the side of its head, but one or two must have went down its throat. It plummeted to the ground mid-step, dragging itself through the dirt in the process. I stepped over its corpse with no small amount of satisfaction, and went to help the only other person left.

Patel had climbed on top of the rock we had sheltered with, as the beasts circled and attempted to jump on him. He had matched my two with two of his own, and the results laid still on the ground near him. They hadn't gone down without a fight though; his leg was bloody and getting bloodier. He sat, moving his weapon wildly and taunting the dragonlings to try again. He must have had some sort of epiphany in the wake of the mother dragon going down. He was barely recognisable from the sobbing, broken person that had sat beside me hiding. Eager to support the refreshed man, I took aim at the nearest target as he distracted it with his hollering.

I pulled the trigger, but my weapon did nothing but click at me. I had run out of shot.

What happened next plays in my head on the bad nights. I scrambled for the small handcannon I kept on my hip, but it would be too late. Patel's weapon was also spent, and he cursed loudly to signal it. The dragonlings sprung into action, as if understanding him.

Patel also had a backup weapon, and rather than duck away in terror, he leapt at the first chance. The front dragonling bit deeply into his arm, but he put his weapon to the creature's eye and shot it dead. He had copied what I had done to its mother, attacking its most obviously vulnerable point. I raised my own weapon to shoot, but Patel was in the way. The last of the dragons had crept up the rock behind him, and I dared not risk the shot. I shouted a warning, but in the end, I watched the jaws of the beast clamp down on his torso over his shoulder. There was a loud and sickening crunch as it broke his ribs, its eyes dead set on me as I could only watch in disgust. It released him, and jumped down from Patel's rock, bloodlust compelling it to try and kill me.

I stood my ground and shot at it with contempt. I had figured their kind out. It closed the distance, screeching as it did so. As it jumped to the attack, I sidestepped and I shot it where Patel had hit its fellow. It might as well have killed itself, the shot was so easy. It didn't have the experience to protect itself properly. I kicked the corpse as I passed, its death moan escaping as a cry.

I hurried to Patel, to see if he could be saved. I hoisted myself onto the rock. His sand-coloured, patterned uniform was awash with his blood, stained red. I couldn't see any of his insides, a fact I thank my lucky stars for daily, but I didn't need to. He was still conscious when I reached him, but unable to speak. It was obvious he wouldn't last long, no matter what I did.

"Thank you," I said. Without him, and the others, I would have been dead. I needed to express my gratitude to at least one of them. I'm not sure if he heard me before he passed.

* * *

I spent the next few hours burying the dead.

It was an uneasy task for many reasons. The fires spread no small distance, raising the temperature to uncomfortable levels again. That was the least of my worries. Handling the broken or burned people that had acted with complete professionalism in the face of a foe they could not have dreamed of the day before was hardest. They hadn't flinched for a moment. It was both glorious to watch and disheartening that they were gone. I also attempted to do something for the crew of the flying machine, but their bodies were too far gone. I had to burn what I could find. Our transport to Thedas remains their monument.

I took everything useful off of those who hadn't been burned, everything from weapons to boots, and put them in graves beside each other with personal items I found in their packs. Fraser turned out to have a set of writings on military strategy, which I kept. I filled in the graves and marked them appropriately. On the makeshift headstones, I wrote in black permanent ink their names and drew both the symbols of their country and each of their gods. It didn't take long, the ground was soft and porous.

And so I was alone.

Left with little choice, I followed my survival training. I searched everything, taking stock of what I had to use. As I had expected, the boxes were full of things more or less useless to me. Weapons, ammunition, armour, defensive implements, all the things you would need to fight a small war but no food or water. There was only one surprise in the lot; one of the boxes was practically a library, containing books on a very wide range of topics. I found this confusing, I had been told that only military supplies were being brought with us and that essentials for citizens were going later. Unable to use any of them to survive, I tossed Fraser's books in with the rest and sealed the container.

The contents of the soldiers' packs and the storage of the helicopter were more useful. A medical kit, various tools, compasses, some pre-cooked rations and bottles of water, and spare clothing were all on the go, though I couldn't take all of them. A large collection of maps from my world, mostly of the regions where we had been operating, suddenly had great sentimental value to me. Despite being of no use at all, I decided to bring some of them along, particularly ones depicting the entirety of my world. The weapons that had fought off the dragon I buried with their owners, as I had no shortage of things to defend myself with, with one exception. The larger firelance belonging to Murphy I wrapped up, and deposited at the very back of the cave. Considering I could take on a small army with it if I needed to, I had no intention of letting it rust away underground.

When the packing of both my own bags and the cave was complete, I was at a loss at what to do next. The land I was in was entirely alien to me. I couldn't stay at the battle site, there was nothing to eat and nothing to drink. But where to go? My training told me to seek high ground and get my bearings, but I was in another world. Simply looking around wasn't going to work.

In the end, I opted to stay and rest. I was exhausted both physically and mentally. I wouldn't be marching around anywhere on my own.

With nothing better to do but wait for sunset, I pulled the largest fangs out of the dragon's mouth. The things were easily the size of my forearm from root to tip, and felt almost like metal. One of them had a chip, where a bullet had struck it and deflected away. Having completed my revenge and gained some souvenirs, I went back to the helicopter, laid out a sleeping bag and decided to go to sleep without waiting for night. Which was a mistake, in all likelihood. Regardless, I fell into a dreamless slumber in no time at all.

* * *

I was woken from my sleep with a rough boot to my side, which restarted some of the pain I felt from the crash along my shoulders. In the heat of the battle, it had gone away. It came screaming back with a vengeance.

I opened my eyes to three thin swordpoints, pressing against my chest.

My annoyance at being woken so violently turned to resignation. I was too tired to be surprised at the discovery of other human beings. It was just another unpleasant surprise, that I could do nothing about. Except die, but I had no intention of doing that. I tracked the blades' edges to the hands holding them, and the faces looking down at me. I became transfixed on one, who eclipsed the others whom could only have been his subordinates in every meaning of that word.

A beautifully ornate golden mask stared down at me, mimicking a human visage with perfect features. The man's own face was invisible, even his eyes in the low light of the evening were covered. Yet I could feel the contempt pouring off of him, even through what must have been a cloud of perfume. Perhaps because of the perfume. As you have probably guessed, he was an Orlesian noble. At the time however, he just looked like a madman with a sword and too much money to me. Along with the two unmasked ones, he wore a gold-threaded blue robe and chainmail. His sword's hilt was also gold.

I began reaching for my weapon, but Goldie noticed the action and moved his sword to my neck, the pointy end just brushing my skin. He was ready to thrust at the slightest provocation. He seemed to be enjoying himself, the bastard, which was the second sign of trouble in as many seconds.

"Did you kill the dragon?" asked Goldie.

I was struck dumb by the question, but because of its content but the accent in which he spoke. It was the first time I heard an Orlesian speak. It was identical to an accent I was very familiar with. He sounded as if he was from a country in my world, one allied to my homeland and the land where Fraser's soldiers were from.

Goldie sighed, displeased at my silence. He applied a little more pressure for a moment, turning the sword as he did so. I felt the blood leak out of the wound he caused, but hardened my face. He was trying to intimidate me, I refused to play along.

"If I killed a dragon, shouldn't you be scared?" I mused, with the most cheeky smile I could muster.

The man snorted with derision at that, pulling his sword away.

"Get him up," he ordered, "Take his items too."

The two footmen held their swords at their waists, points towards me, as they hauled my tired ass out of the helicopter. Another dozen men-at-arms were on horseback, watching me or gawking at the dead dragon. The fires had gone out, and the damp smell indicated that it had rained heavily at some point. I wondered for a moment if the waterproof seals of the containers in the cave were working. Goldie's boys hadn't seemed to discover my little cache yet, probably because the tracks leading there had been covered by the downpour. There was a scribe of some sort as well, scribbling away as he walked.

The leader had his men push me to my knees, and then pointed at the fresh graves.

"I am not afraid of you because you did not act alone," said Goldie sharply, his heavy accent rising, "I shall ask you again, did you kill the dragon and its young?"

Sure they would kill me off-hand if I didn't answer, and given the evidence all around, I told the truth. With some omissions so they wouldn't think I was utterly insane.

"I helped kill the large one and half of the smaller ones," I replied.

"And the others?" Goldie continued.

I pointed at Patel's gravestone. "He was a brave man," I said.

He looked at it for a moment, then nodded to me.

"What is your name?" he asked.

"Clint Eastwood," I lied, thinking of the first fictional name to come to mind.

"Where are you from?" he asked.

"The Wild West," I replied without hesitation. No way I was going to tell him that I was from another world.

Goldie chuckled haughtily at that, as if it was a joke. I laughed along with him, because it was a joke. Clint Eastwood was an actor who played a bounty hunter in the west of my homeland, but he couldn't know that.

"You claim to be a foreigner from uncharted lands, yet you speak the common tongue. With a ridiculous dwarven accent, no less. You even look like a Fereldan bandit," he said, "You are a bad liar."

He was babbling at this point, so I decided to convince him. There were things from another world all around him. I thought it would be easy enough. Trying to avoid getting stabbed by his shiny sword was my reason for existence at this point. Surviving a dragon only to be killed by this twat would have been an irony too far.

"Look at my clothing, the wreck behind me, the symbols on my uniform and on the graves," I explained, carefully skirting the subject of weaponry, "Have you seen anything like them before?"

Looking from side to side, he scanned the crashsite one last time, before returning his gaze to me. He was silent for a moment.

"Perhaps not, but I am not qualified to say. For all I know, these things are the secret work of our enemies," he said, "You are a foreign apostate and you have admitted to a crime. You must be tried."

"Wait, what!" I shouted, rising to my feet. The footmen kicked the back of my knees, and I fell down again. I spat at the bastard, but he dodged in time. He shook his finger at me, and had me beaten for a moment.

Goldie waved, and two horsemen rode over to him, ready to receive orders.

"Take the cart, and bring him to the _grand-parlement_ at Halamshiral," he said casually, "Let the authorities there deal with him. Bring the scribe and the apostate's effects as evidence, and give my regards to the judge. Maybe we shall be rewarded by the royal court, if the Empress has moved there yet."

"Should we dig up the graves, bring the bodies?" said one man, not relishing the prospect despite voicing it.

"No need, this one is obviously guilty," Goldie giggled, "I mean, look at him."

A sycophantic laugh went through the group like a plague, catching on like it was high fashion. I would have been pissed off, but I could barely stand on my own. My fatigue was still very much present, not to mention my injuries.

"You'll regret this," I said, "I swear it."

"No, _monsieur_ , you will regret it!" declared Goldie happily, "I am just glad I caught you before you could do more harm."

* * *

The aristocratic bastard rode off with his thugs after he had another good look at the helicopter, and I was unceremoniously shackled and dumped in the back of a covered wagon. My pack and weapons were locked in a heavy chest and put on the back of it. It rumbled through the rough terrain for several minutes, before we reached something recognisable as a road. The guards closed the window hatch, probably to stop me seeing the exact road back. Every second took me further away from where I had arrived.

I considered attempting to escape, but the odds were too long. My guards were mounted on horses, I couldn't outrun them. Even if I could evade them for long enough, with nothing but the clothes on my back, tired and depressed, I would probably die quickly anyway. I couldn't think straight to begin with, or what any of what had happened really meant.

I still needed to sleep, so I did. The shaking and bumping of the cart did not disturb me.

I must have slept for more than twelve hours, because when I awoke again, it was afternoon. I received the same alarm call as I had before: A kick to my side. The guard jumped off the cart quickly, before I could grab him, and motioned for me to get out. I dragged myself up and hopped onto the cobblestone square outside.

What I saw when I looked up was yet more proof that I wasn't in my own world.

Halamshiral's Winter Palace stretched into the sky above the walls surrounding what I guessed was a prison, smooth blue and white stone rising to meet the sun. Gold and bronze ornaments sat on every part of it. It rose in stages, like a wedding cake, flanked by high towers and buttresses. Green vines clung to its side near the bottom; there must have been a large garden below. It struck me as an amazing feat of engineering, more than being simply beautiful. It was a skyscraper, to use the term I had in mind at the time. I did not know its name the first time I saw it, but it gave me a little hope for my situation. The people who designed such a thing could not be so primitive, or so I believed.

As I stared at the wonder, a bag was thrown over my head and I was pushed onwards. I cursed at them, but all I got in return was a hard slap on the back of the head. Not sensing that the moment to act had arrived, I clenched my fist and ate the insult. Another shove, and I paced forwards, directed by my minders.

Across the cobblestones, into a corridor, up a flight of stairs which I almost fell down, through another corridor and down another staircase. At this point, the guards stopped our travel and I sensed another two or three people in front of us.

"One from the south, murder, apostasy, insulting the dignity of a noble. Scribe will have the details later," said one of my captors, "Careful with him, he's very dangerous."

A dirty laugh erupted from in front of me somewhere. I could only ask myself what the hell they were talking about. Murder? I killed a dragon, not a person. As for apostasy, I was a foreigner, they could hardly expect me to know of and follow their religion. Of course, the law is a complicated thing, especially to someone with no knowledge of local customs. They had me cold on the insulting the dignity of a noble charge though.

"Good, we've been looking for one like this to soften up a hardcase," said a man in front, whom I assumed must have been a prison guard, "Won't tell us where the money she owes is. Looks like he can do the job."

"Just make sure he's ready for when the judge needs him," said my other captor.

"Oh, he'll have fun, don't you worry," said the gaoler.

I began to worry myself, as I was moved again. We reached a dark place that could have really used some fresh air. Definitely a dungeon. We stopped, and the guards turned me to the left. I heard metal creaking, the signal for a door opening. My chains were struck off, and they fell to the ground with a clank. I rubbed my wrists for a moment, which made me feel a little better.

Until they shoved me backwards into the cell, removing my hood just as I fell on my ass.

"Enjoy yourselves," snickered the guard, who turned out to be a rather short man with a balding issue. No need to guess why he wanted to be a prison guard, I could tell he was on a power trip from a single glance. I didn't take his meaning about enjoyment. His helpers were not small, and they put the chest with my equipment across the corridor in a storage room. I watched as he locked it, and waddled away with the henchmen.

With a feeble exhale of breath, I lay down on my back and closed my eyes for a moment, trying to work out some sort of plan. I was quickly reminded by the sound of shuffling feet on stone that I wasn't alone. Groaning, I opened my eyes to see what sort of evil bastard they had thrown me to, like a bone for a dog.

A beautiful woman stood over me, a pair of green eyes looking down at my face.

"Hello?" she said, with a raised eyebrow. Once again, I was speechless.

 


	2. For Love and Justice I

She was tall and thin, with long brown hair framing a face that had my heart jumping out of my chest for a reason other than fear. The aforementioned green eyes seemed to search me, as if she was trying to figure me out. She seemed to be wearing linen work clothes of some kind padded with leather, like something you'd see in a museum in my world, and she filled them out very well indeed. They had smudges of dirt as well. I looked up at her for a moment, appreciating the sight.

"Well?" she said impatiently, expecting a reaction beyond gawking.

I lifted myself onto my feet, and rubbed my throbbing head, turning towards her. Her eyes turned from concerned curiosity to fearful hostility in the space of a blink.

"By Andraste, you are a big one," the woman said, taking a boxing stance, "Right then! Let's get this over with."

She wasn't much smaller than I was, but I doubted there were too many people over six foot in this world anyway. I opened my mouth to speak, as she took a rather impressive swing at me. The punch landed on my left cheek, and I took it fully, unable to react in my surprise. I staggered backwards against the iron bars separating the cell from the corridor. Very much to her credit, she pressed her advantage, moving forwards and throwing a low blow with all the exertion she could muster. She was damned fast too. She would have had me with a solid gutshot, if I hadn't been wearing my world's armour. The gaoler wanted me to have every advantage.

Her fist impacted against the thin ceramic and metal plates underneath the fabric, and she recoiled in pain. I stood up straight again, with a hand to my face. She shook her hand in the air and resumed her stance. Worried about where this was going, and frankly having no desire to try to harm such an impressively spirited person, I tried to lower tensions.

"Can we stop this, please?" I asked, "I don't want to hurt you."

"They want you to hurt me, you wouldn't be here otherwise," she replied, "That's what Baldy wants especially."

I frowned. So much for the justice of a country that could build marvels. Her words didn't make much sense to me. If a gaoler wanted to break a prisoner, why not just do it themselves? It didn't seem like there was a lot of oversight going on.

"I don't understand, why aren't those two thugs of his in here instead of me?" I asked, "What's the point?"

"I have information they want, but if I injure any of them, they'll be in as much trouble," she replied, not moving an inch from her fighting stance, "They told me they were going to put someone dangerous in here to teach me a lesson. Implied I was going to be used badly until I gave it up."

I still didn't get the idea completely, but I knew the laws of where I was were entirely alien from how absurdly I had been charged. I bought her story, simply because it clicked with what facts I could gather. She thought I was put in here to beat and abuse her, it was little wonder she was ready to pounce. My impression of the new world dropped further, and after recovering greatly from her appearance too. Pissed off at my circumstances, I leaned back against the bars and rubbed my temples. What a mess.

"I will do no such thing," I said firmly, "These guys have screwed me too, there's no chance I'm going to be their attack dog. If I can do something to prove that, please tell me."

She looked me over again from head to toe, and lowered her fists. I held my hands up towards her. She had no small amount of power behind her arms of, and I really didn't want to be hit again. I wasn't going to hit her regardless.

"Your boots," she said finally.

"Huh?" I asked, not sure what she meant exactly.

"Give me your boots, and we'll call it even," she stated boldly, pointing at them, "Can't hurt me without them."

I looked at my feet for a second, and then back at her. That was when I noticed her own feet were bare, and bleeding a little. No problem guessing why she really wanted them. My contempt for my captors increased another notch, closing in on "murder them all" territory at a rapid pace. I went to the wooden bench passing for bed in the cell and sat down. She backed off a little as I moved, but I nodded my assent to her proposal, and she resumed her place. I untied my boots and pulled them off, and set them down together at the other end.

She picked them both up from the top between her thumb and fingers, turning them around as she examined them at eye level. She gave me a weird look, like she was confused about what exactly she was holding. Eventually, she seemed satisfied enough to wear them, sitting down at the other end to try them out. I tucked my feet under me, to avoid soaking my socks in whatever the hell it was on the floor, and leaned on the wall. As she fiddled with the laces, I couldn't help but comment on one thing.

"Sorry they're not your size," I said, smirking.

"Better than nothing," she replied with a smile, "What are they made of?"

"Nylon," I said, matter-of-factly, "Doubt you know what that is though."

"Nope, not a clue," she said, putting her feet back to the ground, "Seems sturdy, though the guards might steal them like my first pair."

"There are more where those came from," I said, truthfully enough. Though another pair were in the storage room, it would require escaping and marching back to where I landed to get replacements. Which might not fit me.

The two of us sat on the bench, watching the wall in silence. Me and my dirty, desert-pattern uniform, bootless. Her and her dirty workclothes, swinging her feet in the boots to see if they'd come off, and tying the laces tighter. The temptation to stare at her as she did this was pretty intense, not least because it was her doing it, but I resisted. I didn't want to creep her out.

After a few minutes, it was her creeping me out a little.

She ceased her adjustments to her new footwear, and stared at me herself. It got worse. She slid over to sit right beside me, and began touching my uniform. The patches with the symbols of my old world, the fabric of my sleeve and armour. Poked my blue beret, still tucked into the shoulder strap. She even rapped her knuckles off the armour covering my torso. Evidently a whimsical person, I let her continue the examination without a word. Like I said, I was smitten by her.

Once this was complete, she tugged at my sleeve. I turned my head, and found her leaning in to whisper.

"You're not from around here, are you?" she said with no small degree of certainty.

A thin but wide smile broke out on my face, despite my attempt to control it. It was the understatement of the entire age, I think. I calmed down and looked at her again, to make sure I hadn't insulted her by that response. She just seemed interested, so I told her the truth.

"I don't even know where here is," I replied, "The town, region, country, nothing."

She got up and stood in front of me, hands on her hip.

"Well then, it is my solemn pleasure to welcome you to Halamshiral, winter capital of the Empire of Orlais!" she declared in an accent that Goldie The Noble Prick would have appreciated, a far cry from her own more restrained Orlesian tones. She then bowed low, pulling at the sides of her work tunic like it was the folds of a ball dress. I laughed, captivated by the woman entirely. Definitely my type, I remember thinking.

"What do they call you?" I asked, as she returned to her place. She glanced at me for a second.

"Julie Marteau," she said, "You?"

"Sam Hunt," I replied, "At your service."

We shook hands warmly, as if we were meeting at a dinner party and not in a prison. Her hands were rough, as expected. She was no court lady in those days.

"Well Sam, what are you in for?" Julie asked jokingly, "No, let me guess. You buggered a sheep, bit the head off of a nug, and then killed the farmer who tried to stop you!"

I put my head in my hands, trying to contain myself. I was crying with laughter. The conversation was just so crazy, particularly with everything that had happened. And what the hell was a nug?

"Close enough. Killed a dragon, and spat on a noble that came to arrest me," I chuckled.

"As if that happened," she said, breaking into giggles, "What are you charged with?"

"Oh, nothing much. Murder, apostasy, insulting the dignity of a noble," I said, "Except I didn't kill anyone, I don't know anything about the religion here, and... well, I did insult the noble."

"You don't seem like the type to kill people for no reason, at least once you open your mouth. Sounds like you annoyed the wrong noble," Julie said seriously, "You'll get executed, if you're found guilty. Are you even a mage?"

I snorted, amused at the question. Magic too? Really? Dragons I had seen with my own eyes, but magic? Didn't buy it. I do now, of course, but people have tried to kill me with it since. I have to admit, I was happy that she didn't recoil in horror at the murder charge too.

"No, I am not a mage," I said, incredulous that she had even asked, "What about you?"

"I can work magic, but not that kind," she replied flatly.

"I meant, why is someone like you in a place like this?" I continued.

Her smile disappeared. "Non-payment of taxes, striking a _chevalier_ ," she said, lowering her head, "It was a stupid thing to do, I could have given them the extra money."

"No, you did the right thing," I said immediately.

She looked at me like I was mad. Or a stupid foreigner, which I was. I sighed, and thought how best to explain myself.

"If you don't have a say in how things are, so why should you pay?" I continued, "What makes them so noble?"

"What makes them noble is that they have armies that can kill us if we disobey," Julie replied, "They claim it's blood, of course, but I have eyes and ears. Gold and steel matter more."

I inclined my head, conceding the point. It's not like popular rule was a natural thing in my world either. When I left, many countries were still run by tyrants of one sort or another, and they all had armies of fanatics, conscripts or mercenaries to keep it that way. Sometimes all three. Once upon a time, every nation was like that, but there were some who had resisted. My homeland most prominently of all. Though we had our own problems.

"If you don't resist, nothing changes," I said, "Where I'm from, we don't have nobles. People choose their leaders, and they're free to do anything they please, as long as it doesn't harm anyone else. For the most part."

Julie regarded me through narrowed eyes, leaning in again. I guessed that she didn't believe me, but then, I had told her a story that probably sounded too far-fetched.

"I'm sure," she said, her tone indicating the opposite, "Where _are_ you from?"

My eyes flickered upwards, as I decided what to tell her. I wanted to say that I was from another world, that I was kidnapped with others, and that they were all dead now except me. But it wasn't the right time. I received an elbow to the side for my delay in answering, and I returned my attention to the attacker.

"No lying," she said firmly, "You're going to die, and I'm going to prison for the rest of my life. Be honest."

I winced at her sharp perception, not to mention her sharp foresight. I really wanted to tell her, the first friendly face I'd seen since arriving in this freakish place, but still wasn't ready to confess.

"I can't tell you, you wouldn't believe me," I said, finally.

Julie threw her hands up in frustration, before slapping them down on her thighs.

"Bah, you're no fun!" she said, "Does it really matter if I don't believe?"

"Yes, it does," I replied instantly. As much as I liked her, I didn't know her well enough yet to trust such a secret to her. She could sell the interesting tale to the authorities for a pardon. Or she could be accused of lying about it if she tried, resulting in greater punishment. Either outcome would have been undesirable. Besides, she thinking I was crazy wasn't the best way to cultivate trust. I was alone and didn't want to be, so I desperately wanted to protect her for that reason. I know how that sounds, but it is simple truth.

I watched as she shook her head. We kept quiet again for a while after that, as she processed what I had said and I thought about what a big fool I was for saying it. It seemed pointless, as either I would escape or I would be tried and executed. My mental fatigue hadn't yet passed. She moved along the bench again to lean in against the corner, and closed her eyes. I wasn't sure if she was pretending to sleep or not, so I left her to it.

 


	3. For Love and Justice II

For a couple of hours, I thought about what I would say to the judge. I constructed a fiction about my purpose, based on what I knew and what I had guessed about the new world. It probably wouldn't hold up under any serious scrutiny, but I needed to say something to buy time. Once that was figured out, I called it Plan B and I decided to work on Plan A.

I looked around the cell for weaknesses. The rock seemed solid, but the mortar looked like it could be scratched away with a bit of persistence. I rubbed some of it off with my hand, my fingers covered in grounded dust as I did so. It was better than nothing, but I doubted I would have the time to dig my way out. I might be kept in the cell for a few days at most, and I would probably be moved to a separate cell once the gaoler realised that I wasn't abusing Julie for him. Not to mention that my weapons and equipment were across the corridor behind a locked door, and escaping without them would probably see me returned to a cell quickly.

My searching moved to the window. It was an arrowslit, a long but thin gap in the wall that allowed only the barest amount of light into the cell. From that, I guessed that the prison was an old castle of some kind. It was located on the bottom half of the back wall, undoubtedly doubling as a privy. I doubted we were on the ground floor of the building, as the draft from outside was strong. So, no squeezing through and leaping to safety. A plan that still left me without weapons or food in the middle of a city in a country I didn't know.

Lastly, the metal bars of the cell itself. They made up the entire fourth wall of the room, and seemed more solidly placed than the brickwork. They seemed to be made of iron, but the colour was off somehow, brighter than it should have been and not rusting. A crossbar ran through the lot, so there was no chance of tying two of the bars together and using my belt to bend one. The door itself was a frame with similar bars on it, on pin hinges, with a large lock mechanism. At a glance, I could tell that with time I could have probably gotten it open, but I didn't have time.

Frustrated, seeing no way out, I got up and tried to lift the door off its hinges. The door moved, but I couldn't get a good grip on the metal. The bars' edges bit into my skin as I put all of my strength into it, drawing a little blood. In the end, I was overwhelmed and the door slammed down onto its hinges again.

I rubbed my bloody hands, and stepped away from the door.

"It's no use," said Julie, approaching from behind, "It's silverite-sheathed iron, too heavy to lift and too strong to break or bend."

"Had to try," I said, "Being stuck in this place will make me go crazy."

Julie pat me on the shoulder in mock consolation, with a quiet giggle to herself. She went to return to her spot in the corner, but stopped dead when she was interrupted. The sound of keys moving locks down the hall echoed through the chamber. The time of judgment had come, I guessed.

"Here, take back your boots," she said, sitting down and quickly removing them, "And play along."

I had no idea what she was talking about. The padding of feet were approaching rapidly. I stuck my head out of our cage to see. It was Baldy and the two tall stooges, the former swinging his keys around and beginning to whistle. I frowned, guessing that he was looking forward to see my handiwork. The punishment for disappointing him would be severe, I suspected, but I wasn't going to visit harm on someone just to avoid it myself. I guess that is my problem generally, I'm a masochist like that.

I wouldn't have to find out what he had in store for me, though.

When I turned back to Julie, I found her curled up on the bench, clutching her knees. Her hair was messed up, covering her face in a tangle. Her clothes were pulled half off of her, revealing her shoulders and belly. She was barefoot again too, my boots hidden underneath the bench. She rocked slightly in her seat, and mumbled to herself. My eyes widened at the sight. I wondered what she was played at, but it soon clicked.

She was pretending I had done as I was bidden to do. I had no idea why she had bothered as I watched her, but the temptation to applaud the performance was almost total. I often said she should have been an actor, rather than what she actually did for a living, but that's neither here nor there.

Baldy arrived, and a big toothy smile broke over his face at the sight of her.

"You did a real job on her, didn't you mate?" he said gleefully, "Had lots of fun."

"You could say that," I replied, containing the urge to grab him through the bars.

"I see it cost you a little, not too much I hope," he continued. I looked at him funny, not sure what he meant until he pointed at his own cheek. He was referring to where Julie had hit me, and I later discovered there was a fairly substantial red mark.

"Nothing I couldn't handle," I said, shaking my head.

Baldy turned to the other occupant of the cell, licking his lips.

"You ready to talk yet?" he said, "Or do I have to let you stew with this one overnight?"

Julie turned her head and gave him a dark look through her hair, her eyes screaming defiance. She stuck out her tongue, looked at the wall again, resuming her mumbling. The gaoler just shook his head with a smile on their face, and his minions were equally amused.

"By the Maker, she is a stubborn one, eh?" he said, addressing the statement to me, "But you'll deal with her, my friend, right?"

"How can I refuse such a generous offer," I joked.

Baldy laughed some more, unaware that the joke was on him. He had the cell opened, and held out the chains again. I walked towards him and held out my arms, as the other two guards stared at Julie as a warning. I swear, they could have been twins, though it's hard to remember that sort of detail after all these years.

"Sorry, friend, need to keep up appearances," he said, as he slapped the irons on me once again, "I've put in a good word for you though, so you won't be gagged."

"Very kind of you," I replied, as the cell door was closed again.

"Way I figure it, you're a dead man using his last hours to help me with a problem," Baldy continued, as Julie gave him an obscene gesture using her thumb, "That deserves certain considerations."

I nodded, containing my disgust at the man's friendliness.

"You're a man of principle," I stated flatly, almost letting sarcasm into my tone.

"I like to think so," chuckled Baldy, as I was led away.

I gave Julie a wink for luck as I passed, and began memorising the layout of the prison as we passed through it. The lack of a black bag over was another consideration that my captors had deemed to give me, and I intended to abuse the privilege with enthusiasm.

* * *

I was brought out into the courtyard and saw the Winter Palace again, this time much more clearly in the better light conditions. It was colder today and there were more clouds, but the sun still illuminated the white stone of the structure as I passed. Whereas before I felt only awe at the sight, now I was filled with contempt. It was then obvious to me that it had been bought and paid for through theft and extortion, diminishing its beauty in my eyes. My otherworldly sensibilities were clashing with the new reality of the society I found myself in.

Across from the prison was a marble building that you could have described as the Winter Palace's baby brother. It was a white marble building with buttresses, with blue banners hanging off of them and golden lions sitting beside giant bronze scales lined the path to its doorway. There seemed to be a lot of people moving in and out of it, their faces hidden with masks ranging from simple grey metal to the gold I had seen before, every design being different. Goldie's mask had confused me, but I was getting the picture that it was an aristocratic tradition of some sort. One that I still find bizarre, and no one in Orlais has ever been able to convince me as to its merits.

Baldy brought me past the golden lions and into a side door, where two men-at-arms in plate armour were waiting, masks and all.

"This is Eastwood," said Baldy, "For the _haut-cours_ trial."

For a moment I forgot that was the name I had given, and I laughed when I realised it. Minion Number One gave me another slap on the head for my trouble. Baldy handed over a document, which was read and stamped, before we walked on. The next corridor was definitely a waiting room of some kind, with ornate seating the whole way along opposite sets of double doors. More men and women in masks, wearing deep blue robes that seemed to be too big for them, sat studying documents. I was unimpressed with the display. You can dress a show trial up as much as you want, but at the end of the day, it's still a show trial. Of course, Orlais is all about the show.

We strode down along to a set of doors with lion-shaped reliefs cut into the dark wood. Baldy was careful to position me in the centre. He nodded to an attendant, and the doors opened.

It was a courtroom. The floors, tables and the judge's bench were gleaming marble, the latter framed with a golden portrait of a woman with a crown and sunbeams coming out of her shoulders. The judge himself peered over it, his golden mask shining in the light of the day coming down from a roof opening. Scribes scribbled away in rows of seats. A woman in a red mask stood in the middle of the space between the judge's podium and the tables. Baldy put me right in the middle of the room under the sun, and attached my chains to a link on the ground. That was probably wise, given how pessimistic I had become.

The trial proceeded in Orlesian, which I could understand partially, as it was close to another language I spoke passingly well. My job required that I speak two languages, and I can only thank the Maker that I had chosen that particular language. I didn't catch all of the meaning, as there are subtle differences between the two tongues and there was a great deal of legal babble, but I remember what I understood very clearly.

A gong rang out, calling the room to silence and causing the doors to be closed. When the shuffling and whispering stopped,

"In the name of the Empress of Orlais, Celene Valmont the First, the _grand-parlement_ of the Dales is now in session," intoned the judge from above in a deep timbre, "Now hearing the case of the Empire versus Eastwood, a criminal complaint of the highest seriousness. Who stands for the Empire?"

"I, Cecile des Arbes, stand for Orlais," said the red-masked woman, stepping forward beside me, "I bring the charges of murder, apostasy, and insulting the dignity of a noble, on the word of Francois deMontfort, a Chevalier of the Dales."

The judge nodded, and there was much scribbling of notes for a half minute. I rolled my eyes. This was ridiculous. If anyone brags to you about the glories of Orlesian justice, please send them my way. I looked for my defence counsel, and found I didn't have one. I had been accused and it was now presumed that I was guilty, as far as I could tell. I didn't like my odds, so I decided to have my fun.

"Who stands to defend their honour?" the judge asked, keeping to Orlesian.

I looked around, and saw that all eyes had turned to me. Smiling, I walked forwards towards the judge as far as I could, my chains clanking when they reached their limit.

"Clint Eastwood, officer of the glorious and mighty army of the United Nations," I joked back, "And I am innocent." Needless to say, they took it seriously.

There was some turmoil as I walked back to my starting point, kicking my chains about as I did so. I approached Red Mask with a sinister growl, but she didn't so much as flinch, being just outside my range to get at.

"Your plea is accepted. I warn you... If you speak out of turn, I shall have you whipped," said the judge, quieting the court with his declaration, "Being a foreigner is no excuse for not knowing your place, even if you are who you claim to be. Madame Des Arbes, read the facts."

I sat down and listened casually to what I knew was going to be a load of nonsense, as I didn't think interrupting was going to do much. Except get me whipped. If they didn't let me defend myself, I intended to risk the lash to do so, but it turned out I didn't need to.

"On the forth day of Solace, the honourless before us disturbed a dragon's nest in the hopes of obtaining its fangs. In doing so, he caused the deaths of his companions, a crime for which he has shown no remorse. In order to slay the beast, he resorted to magic and has shown no reverence for our Holy Chantry, proving his danger to the realm as an apostate. Finally, when confronted by the brave _Chevalier_ DeMontfort, he insulted the noble defender of Orlais by spitting at him, after which he was detained and sent here for trial."

Red Mask signalled someone behind me. A masked guard dragged forward the chest with my weapons and equipment, with some difficulty, and set it down beside and opened it for her. The scribe from the crash site also stepped forward, now wearing a mask but still recognisable from his clothes and gait. He handed her a large pile of notes, which she held up.

"As evidence, I have sworn statements from a huntsman who saw the honourless escaping with another from the nest, describing his clothes as 'bulky, the colour of sand, with a rounded hat covering the entire top of his head."

Red Mask held up Patel's helmet, which had rested on top of his grave before it was taken, and pointed at me. I was wearing everything else she described, and I could tell she was smiling underneath, as she made a tour of the benches so everyone could see. The helmet went back in the box, and to my shock, my firelance came out next. I couldn't see if the safety catch was on or not, or even if the thing had been readied to shoot, but there was definitely ammunition in it.

Red Mask held it backwards, and I winced, not sure if it would be a good or bad thing if it discharged right about then. She raised it up like she had with the helmet, and continued speaking.

"Then, as the dragon and its young closed in on his companions, he summoned molten metal with this staff and killed it, but only after his companions were dead. As evidence, I submit the sworn testimony of DeMontfort's scribe, who examined the dragon's wounds and found cooled metal into them. The dragon's fangs were found beside the criminal, removed from its jaw. It was he who also witnessed the honourless insult his lord, without regard for his station and with utmost malice."

People started throwing things at me, a collection of crushed paper peppering me as loud boos echoed through the chamber. I turned towards the crowd of supposed lawmen, as they moshed like a gang to denounce me. They seemed genuinely angry, even with all that gibberish about magic. I frowned, unsure if they meant my technology or something else.

"In light of recent uprisings and troubles, I ask the court for a full trial and the execution of this criminal at the earliest opportunity. He is a danger to us all," Red Mask concluded, bowing away as she did so.

The judge held up his hand, and the mask swivelled towards me.

"Do you have any arguments against these charges going to trial?" he said.

I stood up again, and took a breath. I decided to begin from the start and go from there.

"I did not cause the murders of my companions. The men your witness described were called Miller and Patel, they found the dragon's nest by accident and they both paid with their lives along with all their comrades. I took the fangs in revenge, not for my own benefit but to place with the dead."

No one said anything for a moment, waiting for me to continue. The next part was tricky, as I had to improvise some way of convincing them that I had killed the dragon without magic while not giving away the secret of my weapons.

"As for magic, I can't use any and no one in my country can. We killed the dragon with a machine, I'm sure that scribe over there wrote about it. The dragon was gravely wounded by it before destroying it, and then died of its wounds. We were explorers, not thieves or dragonhunters, I beg your mercy in this as the last survivor," I said, in the most conciliatory tone I could fathom in my contempt for the proceeding.

The judge's mask didn't move for some time, and it felt like a statue was watching me. I simply stared back, not moving a muscle, like it was a contest. The judge blinked first, and called out to the scribe to hand him the documents. He did so quickly.

The judge flicked through the pages for a few minutes, before rising again.

"It appears there was some sort of destroyed machine, and it seems to me that your story is plausible," he said, his gaze returning to me, "The charge of apostasy is suspended, pending review by the Templar Order and the Chantry. As for the murder charge, you have not presented anything to prove that you were not out for your own gain. Do you have any defence for the charge of insulting a noble?"

"I outrank the man who arrested me," I lied, "If that will do."

"Can you prove that?" said the judge, "Know that impersonating a noble will result in a harsher punishment than even murder can bring, foreign or not."

I thought of things that nobles could do that others couldn't, off the top of my head. I didn't really know much about the era of my world's history when such things were prevalent, but there were some things that everyone knew.

"I can't prove my exact rank, our system is different, but I can read and write in three languages, I help govern cities and I lead troops in battle. If a chevalier is a professional warrior, then I am ranked above that, as I command professional warriors."

It wasn't exactly true, but I assumed that Orlais was like old kingdoms back home, that it had a group of warriors between nobles and the common people. It made sense, as without an arrangement like that, there would be uprisings and rebellions. Julie practically said as much. Thankfully, I was dead right in this case. The judge seemed to nod, sending a ripple of consternation throughout the courtroom.

"I am told you speak common, and here you are speaking in Orlesian," said the judge, "I assume the third language is your mother tongue. How did you come to speak our language?"

"I was selected to lead the expedition to these lands, after we saved a man from a shipwreck near our lands. He was from somewhere on this continent, and he taught all of my men the most important languages," I said, having anticipated the question long before it was asked, "He refused to say what exactly town he was from, I think he was scared of us, but he cooperated otherwise."

Complete bullshit, of course, but it had the added benefit of presenting me both as an explorer, which would explain my complete lack of knowledge about Thedas, and as a diplomat as well, which I hoped would make them hesitate to simply chop my head off.

"And your country is in the West, you say?" asked the judge. I wasn't completely sure if Orlais had discovered the entirety of the world, but from Goldie's reactions and the level of technology, I was pretty sure they hadn't. So I took the gamble.

"Over an ocean and through a desert, yes," I said, "That's why we dressed in this colour, to disguise ourselves in the sand if we needed to."

I had reached the end of my Plan B, the final detail about my uniform an added bonus. I waited to see if the judge would dig deeper. If he did, I was as good as dead. If he didn't, I was fairly sure I'd be free. What I would do after that, I don't know. I walked around the room, my chain rattling, as Red Mask watched me. I was getting impatient, as the minutes rolled by, the judge consulting in whispers with various other barristers. The room was held in rapt silence for the word on it.

"I dismiss the charge of insulting a noble, your strange dress and education make it obvious that you are no Orlesian peasant or Fereldan bandit," he said, "However, as we have evidence of you taking dragon teeth, I cannot dismiss the murder charge. You say you were in command, you may be responsible for for the deaths of your men and the endangerment of Orlesian subjects."

"I'm a diplomat of my country!" I objected, "I have immunity from prosecution! Are your diplomats dragged through the courts in other lands?!"

"As you have no other leverage, your trial for murder will commence tomorrow, at a time to be determined at first light," the judge continued, "Any objection on the basis of the immunity of diplomats will be tested then. This session is dismissed."

"Glory to Orlais!" chanted the room together in response. My response was a little more rude, and much more quiet.

 

 


	4. For Love and Justice III

I don't remember going back to the prison, I suppose I was just so engrossed in how close I had come to getting free of the whole thing. Taking the dragon's fangs had really screwed me. If I was questioned on my origins further, which had to happen if they weren't completely stupid, I wouldn't be able to sustain the fiction. Worse, they'd probably examine my weapon again, in detail. Probably blow someone's head off with it by accident too, I thought. The real joys would start, and I'd probably end up burnt alive or drawn and quartered.

If I could go back in time and change things, I still would have taken those fangs. It needed to be done, although I say that with the benefit of decades' worth of hindsight.

The next thing I remember is being jeered at as I re-entered the dungeon in the prison. The other cells were occupied. The first three were individuals so shady, you really wouldn't want to meet them in public in daylight, never mind in an alley at night. Hoods, gloves with no fingers, haunched over and beady eyes staring out as they yipped and yelled. The fourth was a huge person turned away from me, a ragged blanket over their shoulders, wearing what I thought was a horned helmet. I was wrong about that.

Finally, I reached the fifth cell, the one I had been stuck in before. Madamoiselle Marteau was still there, still in her state of deliberate and false disarray, though she was standing in the corner rather than sitting on the bench. I was pleased to see that the arrangement hadn't been changed, as it was crucial to what I planned to do next.

Baldy took the chains off me, and I walked into the cell.

"That was entertaining, Eastwood," he said, "You ought to go into theatre."

"You're too kind," I replied, meaning it.

"I expect her to be spilling her guts tomorrow morning," Baldy continued loudly, "Or else she gets sent to a less dainty facility, where the nobles don't care about protecting their honour so much."

"Don't worry, by tomorrow, she won't be your problem," I said truthfully, "Call it a favour to a man of principle."

"Heh," snorted Baldy, "I hope you don't get executed, you're a real funny piece of work."

The gaoler signalled Minions One and Two as they locked the door after depositing my belongings in the storage room again. They left, Baldy shouting at some of the other prisoners to shut their gobs or he'd ram a baton down their throats. He stopped at the cell next door with the big guy in it, but he continued on his way soon after. I watched him through the cage, as he dragged the baton along the bars making a repeated metallic banging as he went. They left and closed the door.

I sat down again and sighed. Julie sat too, and leaned back against the wall as I hunched over.

"You're making friends," she said.

"My skin is crawling just standing next to him," I replied, "He is the most repulsive person I've ever met, and I've met warlords."

"Another thing. Eastwood?" she asked, "Why'd he call you that?"

"I gave my name as Clint Eastwood when I got here," I explained, "It's the name of a famous actor in my country. He plays hardass characters."

Julie giggled again, amused that I had managed to deceive them. Admittedly, I found it pretty amusing too. I still wonder if I could have pulled it all off if I had went with Marty McFly instead. Sorry, otherworld reference. I can't promise to keep those to a minimum.

"I guess you're not dead yet, if you're still here," Julie said, as she began returning her clothes to their proper state.

"Tomorrow," I said, "They'll get me tomorrow."

Julie pulled on the boots again, and tied them up. At least she was pleased, for the moment. My new companion stood up, and walked around, trying them out again. I was having a little fun watching her march up and down the tiny space, or jumping up and down on the spot.

"These really are amazingly well designed," she muttered, "Your country must be quite something."

"The boots are nothing," I said, lying down on my back now that the bench was unoccupied, "We have carriages that don't need horses, flying machines, boxes that let you talk to people hundreds of miles away, buildings as tall as mountains, all the types of food you could possibly ever want to eat. Let's not forget ice cream and weapons of mass destruction. No wonder these morons think I'm magic, this place is primitive."

I immediately regretted the rant. Julie stared at me. I couldn't read her expression, but I felt I had offended her in some way.

"I don't mean you, it's hardly your fault that your country is the way it is," I said quickly, "I can't take much credit for my country's achievements either, and it's not exactly paradise for all. It's just frustrating to be called an apostate and threatened with death because of it is all."

"I can't tell if you're telling the truth or lying to me," she said, her eyes narrowed, "But I think it's the truth."

"Yeah, though it's no good to me now," I replied, with a wave of my hand.

"I think I'd like to visit your country," Julie said, "It sounds wonderful."

"Land of the free, home of the brave," I sung off-key, half-joking.

"What was that?" she asked, "A song?"

"The song of my nation," I replied, not sure she would get the concept, "Sort of like a royal salute, I guess, except for the whole country, not just the leader." She looked at me funny. As I suspected, 'national' anthems weren't a thing. The concept of a territory and people as a 'nation' itself didn't really exist, with one or two notable exceptions.

I hummed the first few bars of the song, called _The Star Spangled Banner_ , rather than singing it. Julie listened quietly, looking at the boots. When it was over, she looked thoughtful, but said nothing. I doubt I impressed her with my rendition of the song. I got homesick to the point of actually feeling nausea.

It was at that moment that I made my decision.

"Screw this, we're getting out of here. Tonight."

 

 


	5. The Great Escape

This chapter is named for a supposedly true story about prisoners of war escaping from a camp, with each of them using an unique set of skills to confound their captors. I suppose I should dedicate it to Steve McQueen too, though no one reading this will know who he is. If anyone shows up claiming to be from another world, you can have them explain, because I'm not going to. Given what happened, it seemed the only appropriate name. Even with the discovery I made during the course of the action, which was distracting to say the least. Regardless, our own antics escalated quickly from just myself and Julie escaping, which was itself an increase in the ambition of my initial plan.  
  
Julie agreed to escape with me quickly after I had explained the general idea. Break out, get out of the prison, head south from the city and onwards to freedom. Of course, I omitted the part where I find the large cache of highly advanced weapons that I hid in the forests, then try and get back home. She had plans of her own too, I would discover.  
  
After a bit of experimentation, we were pretty sure we could get out of the cell if we worked together. The sharp edges of the bars would have cut our hands to ribbons, but we didn't need to touch them ourselves. We worked out that we would be able to lift the door if both of us applied our weight, using the bench to do the actual lifting and ourselves as counterweights. Maybe. I had seen it done before, but it might have been a longshot. Not getting caught after we got out was the next thing. If the door itself crashing to the ground wouldn't bring someone running, the other people in the cellblock probably would. Getting out of the building at night would probably be less difficult. Yet all of that that was the easy part, getting out of the city fast enough was the bigger challenge. One we couldn't plan for.  
  
However, with my lying ass about to be strung up the next day, and Julie facing hard labour, prison and worse, we confirmed we had no choice but to go. We decided to wait for nightfall.  
  
We almost got caught out when Baldy came by to deliver water and a food substitute that looked like a mangled rat. We had a plan to keep the fiction of my cooperation up, as Julie had doubted that our gaoler would settle for simply thinking that she was being dealt with. At some point, she said, he would make sure to see. I didn't think that was the case, but I agreed to her plan, though frankly I still think it was unnecessary. The idiot liked me, after all. Or maybe he just liked having people carry out his whims.  
  
Regardless, Baldy waddled into view with a plate, his presence long announced by the jeering of the others. He even helped out, by speaking with our big friend next door, which helped immensely with the timing. By the time he arrived outside our cell, Julie was laid down on her back and I was between her legs. It sounds exactly how it was. We were pretending to be in the middle of "making love" in the dark. Which was awkward. Like I said, her idea. Kids, don't read that part.  
  
The madamoiselle delivered her perfectly timed and swift fist to my face, as planned. She enjoyed it a little too much, smirking before it landed. I flinched backwards, because as I said before, Julie is no weakling. Despite it not being quite as painful as her first effort, I was barely able to continue the façade, having trouble doing up the button on my trousers again. My eyes watered and I had to blink away the tears. I thought it was no wonder the thugs wouldn't do their own dirty work. They'd probably lose an eye or a tooth.  
  
Our gaoler found the performance extremely entertaining, laughing from the bottom of his bastard heart. My cellmate had been right. He was a perverted little cockroach at heart, and what he had just seen would probably hold him over until the morning.  
  
"Looks like you're getting there," he grinned, placing the cup and plate down just inside the bars, "Or maybe she's playing you for a fool, letting you get close so she can whack you like that."  
  
"Go screw a sow," replied Julie, gathering the top of her workshirt onto her shoulders again.  
  
"Careful girl, you're sour like one," growled Baldy, his face going dark, "I might mistake you for one if you're not careful."  
  
"Tut tut, friend," I interjected, leaning against the bars, "She's mine."  
  
Baldy's smile returned, just within slapping range. I was sure that if I hit him on one side of his face, the fat on it would ripple all the way around again. Grabbing him and taking his tubby self hostage also presented itself as an idea. The temptation was great, but the prize of getting out was more so.  
  
"I guess there's some use in a feisty one," he grinned, "Just as long as she's the most sore piece in all of Halamshiral by night's end, I don't care. She needs to understand what awaits her for the next ten years if she keeps this up. She doesn't talk in the morning, then we'll have to throw her to the wolves in the prison down south."  
  
"I don't care, it's not like I'm going anywhere," I shrugged, "I'm probably a dead man tomorrow anyway."  
  
Baldy nodded and left, again doing his signature rattling of the cell bars with his baton as he passed. King of his own castle, he thought.  
  
I turned back to Julie and began to speak, but stopped myself immediately when I noticed something that could have given us away. Or maybe the bastard did notice and thought it was some kind of fetish? To this day, I'm not sure how we escaped notice or why he would let us off with it.  
  
The problem was this: She was still wearing my boots. On feet that had been held up in the air when Baldy arrived. It should have raised awkward questions.  
  
When I brought this to Julie's attention, she wasn't bothered at all.  
  
"I don't think he was trying to look at my feet," she said, sitting down to fix her hair. I let out a chuckle at that, as it was almost certainly true. I picked up the plate of "food" as she stood up again. She came over and grabbed my face with a cheeky smile, looking into my eyes for a moment before examining where she had hit me the second time. I think it was at this moment that I went from smitten to head over heels. Alas, I am a fool for a brunette.  
  
"You did seem to be enjoying yourself though. Maybe we should practice our deception in greater detail," she said, squeezing my cheeks, "When things are less tense."  
  
"Should we invite Baldy?" I asked, unable to resist the joke. She shook her head, and slapped me on the cheek a little. She was still smiling as she lay down on the bench again.  
  
I took a whiff of the contents of the plate the bastard had delivered. It was putrid, whatever it was, seeming to be a gruel of some kind laced with red spice. I asked my cellmate if she wanted it, to which she informed me that she hadn't eaten anything since arriving. Said it was dangerous. Agreeing, albeit probably for a different reason, I chucked the mess out of the window-privy. I was pretty damn hungry at this point. The last time I had eaten was breakfast almost two days earlier, on another world. It was a fry-up too, bacon, sausage, toast, black coffee. I tortured myself thinking about it for a little while, as I sipped the tepid and probably dirty water out of the cup to console myself. Justice in Orlais, ladies and gentlemen.  
  
I sat down in the corner opposite the bench, and slept for a couple of hours.  
  
Julie woke me to tell me that the nightwatchman was on guard, and not our favourite voyeur. However, as the rest of the prisoners weren't asleep yet, as far as we could tell, it wasn't time yet.  
  
Once we had decided that, she asked to hear more about my country. I told her about what cities I had visited both in my homeland and in other countries, talking about things like what the people were like, what you could find in each one, how exactly I travelled there. She seemed pretty interested in that for a while, then inquired about food, as I had said before that the country had all sorts of foods. I declined to answer this, as I said, I was too hungry to be thinking about that. I guess that was her way of dealing with hunger, provoking it deliberately so it didn't sneak up on her.  
  
Eventually, we heard the sound of snoring, and the time to leave had come. The nightwatchman did a final patrol before heading off behind the door at the end of the corridor to read or do something less sanitary, probably in the guardroom I had seen into on the way to the court. There was no way to be sure if any but one of the prisoners were asleep, but it was midnight according by my reckoning  
  
Julie had a look down the corridor herself, and nodded to me that it was definitely clear. I grabbed the bench and pulled it over to the door, positioning one of the supports under the lowest of the crossbars. As we readied to apply force to it, I couldn't help but laugh at a certain irony. My companion turned to me, wondering what was so amusing and a little afraid that I'd draw attention with the outburst.  
  
"You know who gave me this idea?" I whispered, "The judge. He said that I didn't have any leverage left."  
  
We both snickered quietly as we applied our weight to the bench, levering the door upwards off its hinges. In hindsight, it wasn't that funny a joke, but the tension of the moment made it so.  
  
The metal groaned a complaint loudly, the inside of the hinges scraping off the door's pins and the bolt of the lock tapping off the sides. For a moment, I thought it would stay stuck at the very top of the pins. I leaned my knee on top of the bench, relying on my weight rather than my strength to push it down. The door came off the hinges, sending us flying to the floor with the bench. It fell outwards and collided with the doorframe of the storage room, ringing like a chantry bell for a few seconds. I winced at the noise, but it quieted fairly quickly.  
  
Julie and I looked at each other gleefully. Step one complete, a piece of cake. Now for the dangerous part.  
  
We rushed out of the cell and picked up the door. Hoisting it back into place took a lot of effort, and we had to act quickly. Taking a side each, we replaced it as close to where it had been as possible, while keeping off its hinges. A lot of grunting and heaving, and we had the outsides fitted snugly into its frame. Ready, we waited for the inevitable. The others awoke, and poked their own heads through their cell bars to see what the ruckus was. I followed suit, pretending to do the same, even though I was entirely sure that our next-door neighbour had seen us leave the cell. Thankfully, they remained quiet as the nightwatchman entered in a fuss.  
  
"What in Andraste's tits was that noise!" he shouted, "One of you better tell me, or so help me, you will choke to death on my -"  
  
You get the picture. He continued like that for some time, straighting his black robes and waving a fist around. Julie had a good laugh at the rant, whereas I was too absorbed with what I had to do next.  
  
"Hey! it came from this storage room!" I called down, pointing at the door where my equipment was kept. The bluff worked.  
  
The moron came down the corridor with a flame torch, dangling his keyring, searching for the right key to unlock the door. I watched carefully as he flicked through each one, mumbling about flaying people alive as he did so. Julie gripped my hand from behind, for reassurance, as I watched for him to decide on the right key. As he walked past our neighbour's cell, he finally chose. I took note of which key he had ready as he turned, and gave my companion's hand a squeeze back to signal that I had what we needed to know.  
  
He must have still been half asleep, because he began loudly knocking the key around the lock clumsily rather than putting it in. It gave us the opportunity to get the door out of the way again without being heard.  
  
Julie and I sprung into action. We took him from behind as brutally as possible, not taking any chances. The first strike was a full body punch to the back of his head from my dear self, which sent him forwards against the wall beside and the other prisoners cheering. The torch fell to the ground, and I kicked it away so he couldn't use it as a weapon. Julie did most of the rest of the work, sending punch after punch at the man's jaw, gut and neck. He collapsed after about six blows a minute later, either dead or very badly hurt. He was bloody and bruised in every place I could see, and plenty I could not.  
  
It was probably a bit excessive, I thought, but my new friend needed to vent. When it was done, I rubbed her on the shoulder as she inhaled and exhaled deeply. She put her hand over mine as I did so. She appreciated the gesture.  
  
"Hey you, get us out of here!" called a prisoner, managing to half-shout and half-whisper.  
  
"We will, just stay quiet and we're all leaving!" I replied, "Warn us if anyone else comes."  
  
One of them made a gesture from down the corridor indicating that they would do so, and I immediately felt relieved. Apparently everyone on the block was up for a greater crime than evading arrest. I picked the keyring off the nightwatchman's body, and selected the storage room doorkey. It slid in smoothly, but required some force to turn open. The door swung open to reveal a number of chests, barely visible in the light light of the now-recovered torch.  
  
"Which one is yours?" Julie asked, "That's mine there in the corner, not much inside but I'd like some of it back if you don't mind."  
  
"We'll open all of them," I said, remembering the half dozen prisoners waiting for release, "Might need the extra help."  
  
My companion nodded, as we began trying to open chests. The first we opened turnout out to be hers, and she took out a toolbelt and a bag, confirming her profession as being a craftswoman of some sort. Inside was also a bunch of rolled up papers, which I guessed were her case files. She set them on fire with the nightwatchman's torch, before I could look at them. She smiled as she did so, letting the embers fall into the empty vessel. I didn't complain, there was no reason to take them and it was probably some sort of ritual for her at this point.  
  
The next chest held a large bow and two quivers of arrows, some sort of paint tin, a large curved dagger, and a bag of survival tools. No papers of any kind. I wondered what the paint was for, and who the owner was. I reached for the tin, but didn't really have time to ponder it and left it alone. I turned to Julie, to see if she wanted the bow or dagger. As I hadn't really used a bow before, I didn't want to bother taking it.  
  
"If someone sees us walking around with a bow, they'll stop us," she whispered, "Leave it."  
  
So we left the second box untouched, and my own equipment was better by my own reckoning at any rate.  
  
We went to the third chest. I opened it and found everything that had been taken off me inside. I breathed easy, my spirits greatly raised by the sight. My pack was untouched, as was my combat webbing. Even the spare water bottle was still full.  
  
Most importantly, my weapons and ammunition were there. Goldie's scribe had placed his notes in a side section too, for good measure, and I had every intention of flicking through those as soon as I was safe. I pulled the webbing and Fraser's boots out and put them on, buckling the belts to me. Julie watched with a curious face, as I gleefully chuckled to myself. I remember thinking about all the smug pricks who had insulted and mistreated me since my arrival, and how I would make them cower in fear if I ever saw them again. It was that sort of night. I felt guilty about having those thought. Yes, really.  
  
Unfortunately, my self-indulgence was cut short by the sound of another door coming off its hinges. It clanged against the wall or floor outside without any warning at all. Julie and I looked at each other in surprise. The sound of the broken door being moved aside along the stone of the floor echoed around.  
  
I quickly grabbed my firelance from the box, checked that it was loaded and flicked the safety off with my thumb. Boots knocked closer for a minute, before the guest ducked through the low doorway and into the room, illuminated by the torch.  
  
It was definitely a woman. Little doubt of that, given her... bounty... I suppose that would be the polite way of saying it? She was wearing a crossing double weave of cloth over her neck and across her chest, that left her belly, shoulders and presumably most of her back naked. Black trousers started at her waist and ended with what I can only describe as cousins to my own boots on her feet. Her skin appeared to be silver-grey and her shoulder-length hair was a brilliant white. Her violet eyes met mine with ease, as she was as tall as I am, perhaps an inch taller. Her physique was athletic; she looked like she could run twenty miles, though I suspected that Julie could probably win out in upper body strength. It occurred to me that this was the occupant of the cell next to ours, now without her cloak, but that wasn't my primary concern at the time.  
  
No, I was much more interested by the two damned horns growing out the back of her head.  
  
What I mistook for a helmet before was actually part of the woman's skull. This was my first meeting with a Qunari. There are certainly none on Earth. I raised my firelance to fire, stepping back as I felt my eyes nearly go out of my head. She didn't react, but regarded both of us coolly. I'm not sure if she was trying to calm us down by standing still, but it was having the opposite reaction because of her silence. I had to ask.  
  
"What in the name of God are you?" I growled, "Answer now."  
  
She inclined her head to the side, looking at me as if I was stupid. She looked at Julie, who was speechless at the time, and then back to me.  
  
"I have overheard your conversations," the horned woman said, in a strangely salacious accent, "Every word since your arrival, Sam Hunt."  
  
"What, and you just decided not to wait for me to open the cells?" I asked, not bothering to keep my voice down anymore, "For a nice little chat in this closet?"  
  
"I couldn't take the chance that you would refuse to let me go," she explained, "I take it, given your distance from home and your reaction to my appearance, that this is the first time you have seen a Qunari?"  
  
"It's the first time I've seen one either," Julie interrupted, aiming her words at me, "They're invaders, come to take our land and turn us from the Chantry's faith. There was a big war against them, and some countries are still fighting them."  
  
Our guest didn't seem perturbed by the description of her people. "You are not wrong," she replied softly, "I have seen these things happen."  
  
I tightened my grip on my weapon, wondering if I should just riddle the Qunari with a burst from my firelance and walk out of the prison over her corpse. That seemed a little harsh, considering she was a prisoner too. Leaving her wouldn't have been an option in the first place, yet I could not help but act a bit irrationally. She was so unusual that I kept my weapon's aim on her. Until she glanced at it, not seeming to think it unusual. Which was unusual in itself.  
  
"Is that a weapon?" she asked, "I mean you no harm. Quite the opposite."  
  
I grit my teeth and lowered the firelance. She had displayed no real hostility, and frankly, if she heard everything I had said to Julie without thinking I was crazy, then she deserved the benefit of the doubt. But I didn't answer her question about the firelance.  
  
"I believe you," I said, "That you mean no harm. Get your things."  
  
I stepped aside to let her into the room, and she did so, making her way to the second chest with the bow. Saw that coming. Julie and I watched her closely as she began rummaging in it, before looking at each other in a sort of bewilderment. We quickly remembered that we were in the middle of an escape attempt. Although walking around with a huge archer would compromise us as easily as Julie taking the bow, at least it looked like the Qunari had skill with it. Though as it turned out, Julie could have used it perfectly well herself.  
  
I went about stuffing the scribe's notes into my pack, before hauling it up out of the chest and onto my back. It was heavy and unwieldy, but I could hardly drag it either. Julie checked the hallway to see if it was still clear, while I ran my hands over my webbing to make sure the combat knife and various grenades were still there. With that complete, I looked around. I had an idea.  
  
"Are there any cloaks in there?" I asked.  
  
Julie searched, and found a shelf with large blankets. Good enough, I decided, and wrapped myself up in one to disguise my face and strange clothing. Both my companions followed suit, Julie taking out a long chisel to use as a weapon first and the Qunari putting it over her ridiculously revealing outfit. I was getting more interested in the latter for the obvious reason. She was the first non-human I had ever met.  
  
"You, what is your name?" I asked her.  
  
"I was Tamassran," she said, "But I now have no name, I have become Tal'Vashoth."  
  
I had no idea what she was talking about. I guessed the obvious part, Tamassran was her name before. But was Tal'Vashoth her new name, or was she nameless? I wasn't bothered to get the detailed answer at that particular moment. Neither was our other accomplice.  
  
"Alright Tam, will you help us get out of here?" said Julie, asking before I could, "Because I don't want to spend another minute in this place."  
  
Tam worked as a name, I thought. She was seemingly satisfied with her new soubriquet too.  
  
"That was my intention," Tam replied, seeming a little more upbeat now.  
  
I almost slapped my own face off at her answer though.  
  
"Then freakin' say so the first time," I replied, "I almost killed you."  
  
"Apologies, I thought it was obvious," said Tam, smiling for the first time. It wasn't like Julie's smile, it was much more sharp. The smile of a killer, or similar. It sent a shudder down my spine, but I was more confident of escape with her than without her.  
  
Both my companions and I left the storage room, climbing around Tam's cell door. I glanced inside, and saw that she too had used the bench as a lever. I wondered for a moment just how much she had heard, as we passed to the next cell. Dodgy Guy No.1 was parked right up against the door.  
  
"Unlock it, what's taking you so long?!" he urged, motioning with his hand for us to come closer.  
  
Tam drew her curved dagger, and stepped forward. He, being much smaller and unarmed, stepped back. That had me warming up to her immediately. The trouble she had nipped in the bud could very well have ended with us all getting discovered, and she was smart enough to see that coming a mile away. Though I was still freaked out about the horns, whereas Julie seemed to have the same problem for a different reason. I vowed to have a little interview with both of them later. There was obviously something I needed to know.  
  
"Calm down or I'll leave you in here," I said to the pushy prisoner, unlocking the door and moving to the next cell.  
  
The others were much less pushy, stepping back like they would if it was a guard opening up the cell, and only leaving when we had vacated the area around the door. The three or four prisoners seemed to congregate a dozen paces away, wondering what to do no doubt. Feeling sorry for them, I threw them the remaining chest-sized keys.  
  
"Here, get your things and get out of here as quietly as possible," I said, motioning to the door at the far end, "And if I see you again, just keep walking."  
  
The group nodded like a bunch of chickens, picked up the keys off the floor, and walked down to get into the storage room. Satisfied, I recalled the layout of the prison past the door and unlocked it.  
  
First, up a winding staircase. The guards' quarters were here, along with the aforementioned documents room. The bunkroom doors were shut, unlike when I had passed them in the afternoon, but I signalled for Julie and Tam to be absolutely quiet as we passed. It was a tense moment to say the least, and I think I could have eaten the air with a spoon at that time, but we got past the six or seven doors without incident. Unfortunately, the next part of the plan went less cleanly.  
  
Julie and I had discussed what we would do if we got this far. The documents room, where I thought the case files on both of us were being kept, was at the end of the same corridor. We planned to destroy them. Julie pointed at the door to it, and I nodded. She opened it slowly, with Tam keeping watch behind and myself watching the next set of stairs. In the end, there was nothing but pitch blackness and a row after row of scrolls in the room at the time. Definitely something important though, as the few opened documents I could see were all stamped with the same relief of a woman with the sun behind her as I had seen displayed in the courtroom.  
  
Julie began searching the files for her case, but I stopped her with a whisper of a laugh. I indicated for both of them to leave the room, and then to come closer so I could speak without waking the building.  
  
"Get ready to go down the stairs quickly," I said, at a volume barely above a breath, "I've got this." Julie made a doubting face, but both of them watched me from the steps, as I went back into the room. I pulled as much paper off the shelves and onto the floor as possible, piling it up into a nice pyramid of combustible material. When I was satisfied that I had enough thrown about, I left and readied myself to run, as I pulled my chosen implement off of my belt.  
  
It was an incendiary grenade, designed to destroy things in a small enclosed space with molten metal and heat. Think of an Antivan firepot, and you're still not thinking hot enough. Not even dragon's breath comes close. One can melt through a block of metal more than three feet thick with no problem at all. In a room filled with paper, you can imagine how quickly flames would spread. I only had two of the ingenious little devices, but I needed to destroy what was in that room. Otherwise, we'd never get clear of the bounty hunters and men of fortune that I imagined would have chased us with the help of the information there.  
  
I tossed the weapon inside after activating it, and half-closed the door. I heard it detonate with a fizzing sound, as I hurried Tam and Julie down the staircase. Smoke started to spread as we moved, but I heard no shouts of alarm. We wound down and down, three floors to be exact, until we reached the final stretch of corridor leading to the courtyard. We were almost home-free.  
  
Until Baldy came around a corner, bumping into me. What I thought as I realised it cannot be repeated in polite company. He seemed to bounce off me, almost falling on his backside as he did so, staggering away like he was drunk. Perhaps he was, now that I think about it.  
  
"What in the... you!" he said. Not the sharpest knife in the box, that one. Nor the fastest on the draw, and it cost him.  
  
Tam stepped in front of me quickly, moving to attack. She plunged her dagger into the gaoler's belly, putting her other hand over his mouth. I couldn't help but flinch as she drew it upwards, tearing a long wound in him from button to sternum, before removing it in a smooth motion. She then stabbed him through the throat as the coup de grace, before pulling it out quickly and moving to the side to avoid what happened next. Baldy's eyes rolled upwards, and he fell down in a pool of his own blood. I had seen some brutal things before this, people being burned alive or beheaded being among them, but this was a fatality unlike anything I had seen before.  
  
The Qunari proceeded to drag the body by the leg into a side alcove, well hidden in the shadows, before coming back with what I think was a curtain. She dumped it on the ground and soaked the blood into it, using her foot to move it about. When she was satisfied that most of the evidence was cleaned away, she tossed the curtain into the same alcove. Julie and I just stared at Tam as she wiped the blade clean, pinching both sides of it with the blanket around her and drawing it through her fingers.  
  
"He threatened to have me raped," she said quietly, "He deserved worse."  
  
Julie looked to the newcomer with a new look of respect on her face, eyes wide. The Qunari looked back, understanding that what she had just done had earned serious points. I just looked on in a mixture of stunned silence and amusement. Julie had evidently seen a lot of violence in her life, and I wasn't surprised. After all, she was essentially a serf, and serfdom isn't exactly a thing that respects life. I was very much willing to have another companion on the road at this point, if Tam would agree to come. As it turned out, she positively demanded to come along, but that came a little later.  
  
Both women looked for my reaction to the kill.  
  
"I guess I did say he was the most disgusting man I had ever met," I said with a shrug, "Can't complain." Julie smirked at that, whereas Tam sheathed her dagger and looked away.  
  
Bells rang out, and cries in Orlesian started from the battlements. I listened, trying to work out if we had been discovered yet. They were yelling about fire, not escaped prisoners, as I hoped they would. Knowing their contempt for the accused, I was sure they wouldn't bother to check on the prisoners until the flames were out too, buying both ourselves and the other group a little more time.  
  
We hurried out the door into the courtyard, and stood aside as men I can only describe as city guards ran past us to see what was happening. No heed at all was paid to us, as we slipped out of the prison compound and onto the streets of the city itself. They didn't imagine that we were escaped prisoners. Or maybe they were responsible for firefighting only. Regardless, we passed the gatehouse without incident in the chaos of the moment, the blankets wrapped around us. And that's how we escaped, with no clue as to the significance of what we would set in motion.  
  
I never so much as looked back


	6. Elves I

As we walked away from the prison, I took in the sights by choice and the smells through necessity. The streets turned from smooth cobblestone on wide avenues to rough dirt and stones mixed together. Rather than more of the gleaming white marble buildings I had seen thus far, the structures changed to ramshackle wooden housing, some of them built far too high to be safe. There was very little if any street lighting, save for candle or torch light leaking out of houses, shops or the occasional tavern. Everyone on the street seemed to be wearing a hood, and strictly minding their own business. The smell on the street definitely had the air of raw sewage about it, and I was very glad that I had taken Fraser's boots as spares for that reason. The atmosphere of total deprivation was absolutely unyielding, as we made good our escape.

Halamshiral was perhaps the worst slum I had ever seen in person, and that's saying something considering where I was just before coming to Thedas. It certainly rivaled many of the large shantytowns I had heard of back home too.

Once we were out of sight and earshot of the main thoroughfares and the prison, I took my two companions aside to plan our route out of the city. We ducked into an alleyway with plenty of shadows, and huddled to speak privately.

"Is there a gate to the south road?" I asked, aiming the question at Julie, "I didn't see anything when they brought me here."

"Yes, it is the start of the main road southwards," she replied, "My home is also that way, though it is three days ride away."

My own stash was a day away in the same direction. I assumed no one from Earth had figured out what had happened to me, which was a good bet as they probably would think we were simply shot down rather than teleported. Eventually, they would figure out something else had happened, and who knew, maybe the way I arrived by was still open. Maybe they could send help. There was only one way to know, and that was to wait. Which led to the inevitable question.

"Is your village safe, if we can make it there?" I said, "Can we hide there?"

"We won't need to hide, our lord is a good person," Julie continued, "I was captured by a tax collection party, they come every two months or so."

Which meant I would have at least two months without being pestered. I thought it would take at least that long for help to arrive. I began to think about a cover identity I could come up with, and what I could do to establish myself so I didn't arouse suspicion in that time. I was hmming and hawing away to myself, when Julie spoke again.

"It's alright, I have a place," she said, slapping me on the shoulder as she is wont to do, "And you won't have to hide in the shed."

My eyebrow raised itself.

"Thanks," I said quickly, "Though how will you explain it?"

"Oh, I'll think of a way," she said coyly. She did too. Though it was as unnecessary as the last plan.

Satisfied for the moment and mindful of time, I turned to Tam.

"What about you, do you have somewhere you need to be?" I asked.

"I am coming with you," Tam replied firmly, "You will go home, yes?"

"If I can, yes," I replied, already knowing where this was going.

"Then I am going too," she said, a smile on her face, "Your land is very far away, and that is where I must go now."

"Eh, that probably wouldn't be wise," I said. She'd likely be dissected for study if she showed up with me in my world. Or yet more likely, be shot by the rescue team as soon as they saw her. Unless they got close enough to see what she was wearing. I joked in my head that she'd make serious money as a model. Or as an assassin. However, there was hardly any need to dissuade her at this point, and like I said, I thought she would be very useful on the road. Plus, she was growing on me.

"But, if you want to be indebted to me, that's your choice, I guess," I finished, rising from the group and looking around, "Let's get moving."

"The south gate down there," Julie said, pointing with the torch.

"Lead the way," I replied, hefting my firelance around to cover her. I wasn't liking the look of some of the people wandering around.

So we continued through thin streets, set out in no particular pattern that I could distinguish. A quick check of my compass told me that we were indeed heading south however, so I said nothing. It was still disconcerting, having so many angles to cover. With Julie in the lead, I was in the middle and the Qunari took up the rear. I pointed my weapon at every suspicious seeming alleyway, as subtle as I could, but Tam was looking at me funny by the time the next problem arrived.

The torch, which had got us from the prison into the slums, finally gave out.

The street we were on descended into almost pitch blackness, and we all bumped into each other as we didn't stop in time. Which wasn't an unpleasant experience, I am forced to confess, given what was bumping into me.

"What now?" Tam asked, "Can you re-ignite it?"

"Better," I said, as I thought the question was directed at me. I took my flashlight out of my combat webbing, and snapped it onto the barrel of my firelance, as it is designed to do. I turned it on, and brilliant white light poured out of the front of it, a solid beam that could guide our way easily. The two Thedosians followed the light's every move, fascinated by it as I made sure it was securely fastened.

"Is that a glowstone?" asked Julie, sounding impressed.

"No, they do not produce such concentrated light," replied Tam, before I could explain, "Is it magic?"

I sighed. Eventually the truth of my origins would come out, but I was speeding myself towards that end by using technology beyond that of this world. I wondered what either of them would think when the time to use my firelance or handcannon came. Explaining how the flashlight worked would take forever, so I kept it simple.

"It is not a glowstone or magic, it's called a flashlight," I explained, "It is a tool, a machine for creating light. I'll take the front, we need to keep moving."

Julie moved to the middle as I did as I said, leading the way by her directions. We stumbled a bit more than we had with the torch, as the flashlight didn't illuminate as much of the ground, but I felt a lot safer with it. The people in hoods were much more visible, and tended to scurry away when they saw us. We made better progress due to this, as we didn't have to halt or try and get around groups of people. The city walls began to loom over us even in the darkness, as lights near the gatehouse reflected off its rough white surface. We were very close now, and there was a noticeable improvement over the rest of the city here. It was a trade quarter, I guessed. Naturally, even in a slum, the merchants have better quarters.

I shone my light at a group of people in our way, just before an opening in two buildings. They all looked over at me, hoodless and standing around outside a bar. I stopped dead in my tracks, Julie colliding with me afterwards. They looked entirely human, save for one thing. Their ears were elongated to a point.

To be honest, I had my suspicions that I'd run across elves in the world somewhere. Seeing a dragon, people going about with swords and lots of talk about magic had me thinking about our stories where such things existed. There were usually elves too. Just not usually in slums.

"For crying out loud, what next!" I exclaimed, "Leprechauns or lizard people?"

Julia and Tam approached me as I rubbed my eyes. I was getting tired. The others crowded around me, wondering what I was complaining about. The elves just looked on like I was a crazy person, before returning to their own conversation. Frankly, I felt like they were on to something. Things were getting ridiculous to me. Just when I thought I had things figured out, this place threw something new at me. It was taking a lot of effort to process. I had not seen anyone start throwing spells at me yet, but I became fairly convinced I soon would at this rate. And I was not mistaken.

"What's wrong?" Julie asked.

"Elves," I said, "Everyone here are elves."

Julie and Tam exchanged a glance, and made unkindly faces like they expected better of me. I just returned the look, and saw that I had lost some measure of respect. Which was disconcerting to say the least. Especially with Tam, who could have probably bled me dry at that range in less than a second.

"Do you have a problem with elves?" asked Julie, her tone rising in what I thought could have been anger. The reason for which was coming, but I was a little busy thinking about something else.

"They don't exist," I stated flatly, "They're fictional. Made-up. Fodder for story books."

Both of them softened at that, Tam relaxing her stance and Julie's eyes returning to the warm, mischievous glow that usually inhabited them. I breathed easier, in the knowledge that whatever damage I had inadvertently done was largely repaired.

"You don't have elves in your country?" asked Tam, "No Qunari, no elves?"

"No, we certainly do not," I replied, "We don't have dragons either, they're also supposed to be fictional but at least they're plausible. Giant reptiles lived there once, we found their bones. Give me a minute here."

I turned off my flashlight and took a drink of water from my flask. The air was stuffy in the small streets, uncomfortably so. I remembered what I supposedly knew about the people I once thought unreal but were now drinking from tankards in the alley in front of me. There were a lot of stories, and the details varied, but I guess there was common ground in most of them. Test time.

"Elves," I said, "Long ears, excellent hand-eye coordination, live for thousands of years at a time if not forever, more advanced society. Did I get anything wrong?"

"Most of it is wrong," Tam said, taking on the air of a teacher, "Their coordination is not particularly greater than your own. It is said they used to be immortal but lost the ability when their race was enslaved. Now they live either in clans in the wilderness or in slums like this, either ignored or oppressed. Their civilisation is dead."

"Right," I said, feeling slightly relieved that I hadn't fallen into a storybook, "You seem to know a lot about them, Tam."

"My people find their situation very useful," Tam continued, "They are considered lesser by humans, but the Qun knows no such thing. They often follow my people's teachings when we liberate lands where they are present."

"You mean brutally invade," Julie corrected angrily, "Forcibly converting others."

"It is as you say," Tam conceded with regret, "Though as I said, I am Tal'Vashoth now. My people are just as much my enemy as they are yours."

"I'm not sure it's true that they're equally our enemy," said Julie with a frown, "But I get it, you're not with them any more."

Other people were beginning to take notice of us, which brought the memories of my capture to the forefront of my mind. No doubt we didn't have very much time left before the prison guards started sending out search parties to look for us in the slums. At which point the gates would be closed. We needed to get the hell out.

"Walk and talk, ladies," I said, motioning them forwards. We passed the group of elves I had initially seen. I nodded my greetings to them as they passed. One of them spat on the ground in response. A charming first impression of a people, truly. Of course, I later learned that the attitude was the fault of humans.


	7. Elves II

We got clear of the thin streets and found ourselves back on a wide avenue. One end went straight to the Winter Palace, the other to the gatehouse. Along its length, there were oil lamps emblazoned with lions, the lamp posts painted blue. There was no small amount of carriage traffic in the middle lanes, as Julie had told me there would be when we were planning, but the footways were empty. Satisfied we'd make it now, I relaxed after made sure we were properly covered. We strolled calmly towards the exit to the countryside, and hopefully, to freedom.

"Julie, why are Tam's people your enemy?" I asked, when I got the chance.

"My mother was from Rivain," she said softly, "It's to the northeast of this country, over the sea. Tam's people invaded it long ago, did what they always do. The war lasted decades. My parents used to live near the north of the country, where the Qunari still have a settlement. There's a lot of border tension and skirmishes. My father was killed, and my mother left for Orlais before I was born, as it was where my grandfather was from."

"Sounds... complicated," I said. I couldn't help but draw parallels from my own world. We had many such conflicts in our history, some of which I have set down in writing elsewhere. The major difference was that there were no peacekeepers in Thedas, no laws against ethnic cleansing or colonisation. What a dangerous place I had been brought to, I could not help but think. I had once sworn an oath to defend a set of values that stood against war and genocide, to defend humanity. But I was only one person. I wasn't sure I could do anything to change things, if my oath even held on another world or if it applied to non-humans.

"It's more complicated than you think," Julie said.

I remained quiet. I had no clues as to what she was talking about, and it didn't seem wise to pry about things I knew little about. I would need to talk to both of them extensively to even get a hint of the politics of this world or who they actually were. It was worse than I thought on the former, and better than I had hoped on the latter, when I finally got to have those conversations. They are good people, so I had plenty of motivation to protect them at least. As I've said repeatedly, I was alone otherwise.

"I think she is elf-blooded," said Tam suddenly.

I flinched at the sudden comment. "Meaning what?" I asked.

Julie gave Tam a scowl. Evidently, the Qunari's outburst was far from appreciated.

"My father was an elf," Julie admitted, "I never met him, but my mother was careful to tell me."

"Which is why you weren't pleased when I started going off about elves..." I thought aloud, "I owe you an apology." I felt like a complete idiot. I saw then that what I said could have easily been misconstrued as bigotry. We stopped and she turned to me.

"No, you don't," she insisted, "You didn't know, about me or about elves. You helped get out of prison. I owe you." Her eyes locked with mine, and I couldn't help but smirk.

"You owe me nothing," I said, "Trust me, you saved me more than I saved you." The mere sight of her did. I would say the same of Tam, but she was too terrifying to me at that point.

Julie began to protest, but our other jailbird was upset.

"You owe each other," said Tam impatiently, "What's your plan for getting past the gatehouse?"

We broke our eye contact and turned to our Qunari comrade, who had her arms crossed. Her fingers were playing with the edge of the dagger on her belt as she did so. Seemed like a habit to me, but that made it no less menacing.

"Steal a horse and cart, ride on through like nothing is wrong," I replied, "We have enough time, and simply walking through at this hour would have made us seem unusual."

Tam frowned. I frowned in turn. It seemed like a perfectly viable idea, even when we were locked up. Julie had done something like it before, apparently.

"What's wrong with that?" I asked.

"I was arrested at the north gatehouse," Tam said, waving her arm over her shoulder in the opposite direction, "Qunari are not a common sight in this place, if word has gotten out, your plan won't work."

"Then we'll just put you in the back and cover you," Julie said cheerfully, "It'll work, trust me."

Tam groaned deeply, like doing that was going to be a burden. Both the trust part and the sit-and-hide-on-a-cart part. She was very much one to take destiny into her own hands, as I would learn over the course of our association. I probably should have taken note of it when she was gutting Baldy, it would have saved some trouble.

"One more question, before we do this," I said, as a thought came to mind, "When I was arrested, the chevalier said that I spoke with a dwarven accent. I thought he was mad. Are there dwarves too?"

"Most certainly," replied Tam, smiling again.

"And you do have a dwarven accent," Julie added, "It was the reason I decided to trust you at first. Well, one of the reasons. It was unusual."

"Huh," I said to myself. I wondered how it came to be the case that two peoples of different races and worlds had the same accent. The answer was fairly simple, when I finally discovered it, but for the moment, we proceeded with the task at hand: Grand Theft Cart.

* * *

"What about this one?" I asked, pointing.

It was a large covered wagon, not dissimilar from the one that Goldie dumped me in to bring me to Halamshiral in the first place. Julie and Tam looked at it casually, trying to avoid looking like they were sizing up one to steal but generally failing. I was glad the street lighting didn't really cover this part of the avenue, otherwise we would have been made immediately. Neither of my companions were subtle people.

"If we take a covered one, they'll want to get into it to inspect the contents," mused Tam.

"They'll definitely want to search it," Julie agreed, "We need one with horses ready too, the poor thing over there looks like it's ready to collapse."

The stable yard was fairly busy, and there was a queue to have the horses quartered for the night. Plenty of opportunity for thievery of many sorts. There was no shortage of elves walking past and pinching a box or two off the back of them. And no sign of any city militia or guards, resulting in the occasional brawl as we inspected the line for a likely contender. If I had been in charge, there would have been mass arrests. But I wasn't, so I held my peace in bemusement, irritated by the incompetence of the local government. Ironic, considering I was relying on just that to escape.

Julie and Tam argued over a flatbed cart that had been left unattended, its driver off to complain to the stablemaster about the queue, when another pulled up with a shifty looking human driving it. She got off the wagon and instead of joining the general mêlée for a spot in the stable, she wandered off back down the avenue. Had she abandoned it? It certainly seemed like it. I paced away from my companion's discussion and peeked into the back of it. There were plenty of heavy looking boxes hidden underneath a tarp, one or two big enough to hold a person, but with plenty of space to hide our Qunari friend. While I thought the whole situation extremely suspect, and probably criminal, the opportunity couldn't be ignored.

I rushed back to my companions. Without saying a word, tapped them both on the shoulder and motioned with my head. They followed me without complaint, down the line to the last cart. They both had a look themselves. After a minute, they both nodded. It would work.

"You drive," I said to Julie, "I don't know how."

"Fine, but what do I say if they ask about you?" she said. It was a good question. Even with the blanket covering me, my equipment and pack weren't normal.

"I'm a passenger you're taking home to your village," I said, "If he asks about me further, direct him to me. I'll improvise." Yeah, improvise by blowing his head clean off his neck. Which was about the only plan I could use if it happened. Not exactly the elegant solution.

Tam climbed into the back, and rearranged the cargo around the edges so she could hide herself in the middle under the tarp. Julie climbed up onto the driver's seat, taking the reins, while I plonked myself down at the back, legs hanging off the tailgate. We got moving, the ride smooth for the moment on the well-laid brick road of the avenue. I put away my weapon underneath my pack, keeping both beside me in case I needed to grab it quickly. I was very much planning to shoot my way out if I had to, though doing so would probably draw the attention of the entire city's complement of militia.

The gatehouse was near. It looked like a fairly typical example of one to me. Two round towers, flanking an arch with a portcullis poking from the roof, ready to drop. Two guards at ground level that I could see, undoubtedly more inside the towers asleep or otherwise. Julie drew us up beside the guard investigating those who were leaving, which was a small number but enough to delay things. I watched the masked man talk to the pair of people in front of us, before nodding and sending them on their way. He stretched himself as he approached us, and I put my hand on my firelance, ready to pull it out. I craned my neck to listen.

"Anything to report?" he asked Julie.

"Nothing but a long journey ahead of us," she replied cheerily, "Eager to go home."

"You and me both," he sighed, "What's your destination?"

"Hearth," Julie said, "Wanted to get started as soon as possible."

"You would want to..." the guard said.

It seemed to be going well, until I almost shot up the place and jumped out of my skin. The second guard had gone around the other side of the cart, and tapped me on the shoulder. He chuckled at the effect he had caused, and I just narrowed my eyes at it.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you like that," he said, recovering well, "Was just checking the cargo, when I noticed your boots. They look pretty comfortable. Where'd you get them?"

My sense of relief was palpable, and I was able to answer with a wide smile on my face. I like to think it was a kindly face, but for all I knew, it looked like I had won big on a bet or something. I might as well have, because I think my boots may have saved his life and ours. I'm surprised I haven't picked up the nickname "Boots" in the course of my life, so often have people commented on my footwear...

"Down by the prison, look for a sign with an apple on it, then ask for Jobs," I said, "He said he bought them from a dwarf, but I'm not sure about that."

The guard nodded, holding his chin as he thought about that, whereas I had to contain my laughter. I had made an otherworld joke that went right above his head. "Jobs" was someone with an almost supernatural marketing talent in my world, though he's long dead now and I never bought any of his products. Satisfied that he had gotten what he wanted, the guard thanked me and waved to his colleague to let us through. The cart rumbled forwards again.

I thought we were home free. We passed under the gate without incident, the horse taking us at a steady pace out onto the road. Julie flashed a grin back at me as we got under way.

A flash of light erupted from behind us, followed quickly by a rumble like thunder.

Spooked, the horse stopped and all eyes turned to the source. Even Tam poked her head out of the tarp, to see what the fuss was. Visible through the gateway, a building in the distance had exploded, light soaring into the sky in a column reaching to the heavens. I thought it was a small nuclear explosion, a weapon from my world capable of destroying whole cities in an instant. It was the only comparison I could make at that point. The destruction was massive.

"What is that?" I asked Tam.

"It appears the Circle of Magi in Halamshiral has joined the rebellion," the Qunari said, "Troublesome, considering that they will be unable to reach Andoral's Reach." I blanked her, the significance of her words escaping me. Rebellion didn't sound good, but that's always a matter of perspective, as I find out.

"Let's get out of here," said Julie, her eyes wide and her eyebrows raised. Genuine fear was written all over her face. I decided it was probably a good idea to be afraid too.

"Yeah, fuck it," I said, "Go go go!"

The reins were lashed, and the horse trotted off at a considerable pace. I looked back, as the light died. The guards ran about in a panic, and those waiting to pass through the gate now rushed out and fled in every direction. The event would later be called the Sky Sundering, and it was apparently my fault. Though I still maintain it would have happened anyway. Regardless, we escaped my supposed handiwork, confidently free of pursuers but scared out of our wits nonetheless.

* * *

We kept going until daybreak. The shock at what we had seen wore off quickly. Tam and I slept at Julie's insistence. I'm sure if we weren't exhausted from our efforts, we would have been unable to sleep on the hard wood. Both myself and Tam were practically knocked out in seconds. I had a strange dream that night, that I was back home but there were elves and dwarves. One of the latter was leader of my country. It was a hilarious dream, but bizarreall the same. I must have chuckled like a madman the whole time. It later descended into a much more pleasant dream, of the kind I'm not sure I should recollect here. Needless to say, I think it reflected my newly won freedom from people trying to kill me.

I awoke when Julie called us both, an orange cloud bobbing in the sky above me as I opened my eyes. It was still pretty dark, but the sun was turning the clouds angry colours already.

"I see you both got comfortable," smirked Julie. I sat up, and something poked into my stomach rather painfully, sending me back down again. Perhaps I shouldn't have taken off my armour to sleep. Tam's head was laid on top of my torso, using me as a pillow as she was curled up tightly. It was one of her horns that had pricked me. She looked very comfortable indeed, and completely, utterly harmless. When her life wasn't threatened, Tam was a completely different person, I came to realise.

A cough drew my eyes up at our driver.

"You're perfectly welcome to join us, Madamoiselle Marteau," I joked in Orlesian, yawning afterwards.

"I would like that, but we need to make a decision first," said Julie, "There's a stream off the road a bit, we should stop for a while. Find something to eat."

My stomach rumbled in response, which caused Tam to raise her head for a moment before she lay back down again. I guess that answered that. We needed to stop and take account. It was extremely unlikely we were being pursued, and I got enthusiastic about the idea.

"Sounds like a plan," I replied, "I have food we can share."

"You might also want to wash," Julie said. I was forced to agree, but I think all of us were pretty filthy at this point. Of course, I couldn't let the chance to flirt go by.

"Anything to get me out of my clothes," I replied with a grin.

I got a loud laugh for my efforts, which made me feel better. "We'll see," said Julie. We crossed a small bridge, and turned off the road onto a worn path. The ride got extremely bumpy as we travelled the half mile to a flat spot beside the river in question. The cart came to an abrupt halt.

Tam woke up groggily, pushing herself up using my ribcage. Which hurt, as my bruises from the initial crash had still not healed. She looked around, squinting at our new surroundings and then back at me with a confused look. I shrugged at her, and she stood up to her considerable full height and stretched.

"Good sleep?" I asked, as she disembarked from the wagon with a jump. She turned around and leaned on the side, her shoulders and arms along the edge.

"The best I've had in a long while," Tam said, nothing in her tone indicating mood, "I have you to thank for that, I have not slept in commune for a long time."

"In commune?" Julie asked.

"I was Tamassran," she said, scratching a horn lazily for a moment, "I often slept alongside others, to comfort them. Most often with children, but also with warriors whom had seen too much battle, although there was more to that than sleep. I had done so for years, and I now sleep far better in commune."

"You may have noticed I am not a child," I said flatly, "And I am a warrior who has seen too much battle, or close enough." The implications were... extensive.

"It was more about my comfort," Tam replied, "My apologies. Did I bother you?"

"Not at all," I said, as I hadn't even noticed until it was pointed out. And I was pleased when I did discover it. I climbed down from the cart and hefted my pack onto my pack with my weapon in hand, and the Qunari approached me.

"Then it shall not be a problem," Tam said, her viciously predatory smile coming out again. I noted the use of the future tense there, but thought it a joke at my expense. Big mistake.

My stomach insisted we eat, so the three of us took some of the smaller boxes off the cart and sat in a circle. I got a fire going with the remains of a smashed box and my lighter, which apparently didn't draw much interest from my companions. I opened my pack up, and broke out the pre-cooked meals, sealed in shiny waterproof bags, along with a mini-tripod to heat up some of the food. Both Julie and Tam watched me open one in alarm, as I checked the various tins and containers for what I had.

"What are those?" asked Julie, pointing at the discarded bag.

"The bag or the food?" I asked in return.

"Both," said Tam.

"The bag and the containers are made of plastic, a material from my country," I said, "The food is an MRE."

"Emeree?" said Julie, turning her head slightly, "What is that, an animal?"

"It stands for Meals, Ready to Eat," I said, guessing correctly that acronyms weren't a big thing in a Thedosian society, "Food that's cooked beforehand, then preserved and sealed in these containers. It's soldier food."

"Are you a soldier?" asked Tam, "You seem to be more knowledgeable than a footman."

"What I am is more complex, but that is mostly what I do, yes," I replied, "We can talk about our professions later. Here, just taste some of mine, I brought the good stuff."

I opened the container for the crackers, handing the former to Julie and put a container for some chicken breast on the fire to heat up. Julie grabbed a cracker and wolfed it down without hesitation. She hadn't eaten in at least three days as far as I knew, so I hardly blamed her for not appreciating the glory that is the military-issue cracker.

"They're good," she said to Tam, "Here, try one."

The packet was held out to the Qunari, who took a cracker and ate more deliberately. She nodded her approval, and the pair of them ate all my crackers before I could get a look in. Small price to pay for their company. It was strange, watching the two women from another world gobble down something that wasn't even made on their planet. I wondered about bacteria and the like for a second, but I hadn't had any trouble myself with the native water, so I figured it would be fine. I just sat back and enjoyed watching them eat. Hadn't seen women outside a uniform eat in a good while by that stage.

The sun remained low in the sky, so the fire flickered light around our campsite while it heated the curried chicken up quickly. A few minutes later, I opened the pack, releasing the smell of cooked meat and spices into the air.

"That smells great," said Julie, eyeing the packet hungrily. In truth, it was pretty crappy by Earth standards, but it was probably new to her. I doubted then that there were such spices in Thedas, and to this day I have not found most of them. Although that hasn't stopped me creating an equivalent. I miss my curried chicken.

"You eat meat for every meal?" asked Tam, as I got out a knife and fork to cut up the contents in the bag, "Qunari soldiers are not given meat unless they catch it themselves."

"In my country, we eat meat most of the time, yeah," I replied, "We even have a name for people who don't eat meat. I take it you don't eat it often?"

"We would run out of animals if we did," said Julie, reaching for the meal. I gave it to her after popping a chunk of chicken into my mouth. She gathered a ball of rice and chicken together with the knife and fork, and ate it. A hugely satisfied smile spread across her face as she chewed, lingering after she swallowed the first bite. Tam looked on in envy, as Julie gathered her second portion greedily. I looked on in amusement, and took a swig from my canteen. Then promptly sprayed the contents back out in surprise.

A noise erupted from the cart.

It started with a banging, and was soon augmented with cursing. We all hurried to stand up, and I raised my weapon. Tam grabbed her bow and nocked an arrow, though kept it lowered. Julie kept eating even as she stood, watching like it was a show. It would become one soon enough.

Finally, a box split open, one of the ones that was big enough to hold a person, and a figure emerged from it. Shaking broken planks of wood off of himself, he turned around and found us staring at him. He froze on the spot. The standoff continued to the sound of Julie's chewing.

He was an elf. He had a short crop of messy black hair on top of his head, blue eyes and was pencil-thin. He wore a flowing hooded robe over a tunic and pair of trousers, all of which were a light grey with red lining the edges. He was armed only with a long stick or a spear of some kind, which drained a lot of my aggression. I didn't realise that it was in fact a far more deadly weapon.

However, I don't think I would have reacted differently even if I had known. His demeanour was calm and cheerful. I lowered my weapon and stood at ease, as he hopped down off the wagon. Tam twitched and Julie stopped eating her meal as he did so, but he just took a few steps towards us and supported himself on his staff.

"This might seem a bit sudden, but could I have some of that?" he asked with a grin, pointing at the chicken.


	8. Magic I

Tam raised her bow to loose an arrow at the stowaway elf, a rather nasty looking bodkin point tipping it. The snarl on her face informed me she was extremely intent on killing the man. I examined the target, concluding he seemed entirely harmless. Any one of the three of us could have taken him easily with our fists alone. Especially Julie. Tam's bow or dagger was overkill, whereas my firearms could have turned him to a mince pie in a fraction of a second. Or at least, that was my assessment when I decided to stop her from killing the poor guy.

I lightly put my hand on Tam's shoulder to calm her down. Her narrowed eyes and tensed muscles relaxed slowly at the touch. With an exhale of breath, she slowly returned the bowstring to its place, and removed the arrow from its nock. The stranger seemed entirely blasé about the whole thing, continuing with a little smile on his face that was very disarming. I was willing to give him some time to speak. It did not convince our new Qunari friend, however.

"He is dangerous," Tam said firmly, "We should kill him."

"That's impolite," said the elf, "Talking about killing a person right in front of them, without even knowing their name!"

"I know enough, saarebas," Tam snarled at the man, "You are without a keeper, you are too dangerous to live."

The elf rolled his eyes, his smile remaining. He moved to the side and sat down on the nearest free box, placing his staff across his thighs. Julie and I sat too, my ignorant self still entirely unaware of the potential danger. Tam remained standing, now ignoring the fact that Julie had began eating the chicken again. But I had questions he would have to answer before he got any of my food.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"He's an apostate," Julie replied for him, chewing again, "A mage outside the Circle, a rebel."

I snorted with laughter. Finally, a supposed magic user had arrived. Bored to death of the revelations, I wanted to have fun with it.

"My name is Armen," the elf said, not holding the interruption against us, "And it is as your friend says, I am a rebel mage."

I had to see it to believe it. At the back of my mind, I had already decided that magic had to be real if all the things I had seen already were real, but I needed to see it. I took out a dessert packet from the MRE, and opened it. I bit into the treat inside, to tease him a little before I made the request.

"Sam Hunt, at your service," I said quickly, "If you are a mage, show me your magic. We do not have magic in my country."

"You're not from Orlais?" Armen asked, his smile going a bit crooked from confusion.

"Does he sound like he is?" said Julie.

"He sounds like a dwarf," confirmed the elf, "But he was speaking Orlesian earlier on the wagon, so I assumed so. What country _are_ you from?"

"Somewhere extremely far away," I said, "You wouldn't know it. Now, are you going to show me magic or are you not hungry any more?"

Armen's face curled with annoyance, the first time he had displayed something other than a casually happy visage. It still lacked threat to me though, looking more like the face of a child asked to do a chore than anything with real hostility. I felt a little bad, making him into my personal trick pony for a moment, but it was something entirely new to me. It had to be done.

The elf rose, dusting off the bottom of his robes as he did so, before taking his staff back into his hands. What happened next astonished me. He swung the staff in a wide arc, and as he did so, purple-blue electrical discharges began running the length of it. Before I could wonder how he was still holding the thing without shocking himself, he stopped swinging it and thrust it forward towards me. A bona fide bolt of lightning burst from its tip. I didn't see where it went, it was obviously far too fast for that, but I certainly heard it as it passed right by my left ear. It almost deafened me in doing so.

I fell on my ass, while Julie and Tam scrambled for cover. Armen returned his staff to a resting position off the ground, and his face went from one of deep concentration to mild amusement again. I stood up in a daze, recovering quickly. I don't know what sort of expression I was making, but I can only imagine it was something akin to a child seeing a skyflower firework for the first time. I was amazed and impressed.

"See!" said Tam, pointing at him with one hand and keeping her other on her dagger, "He's dangerous!"

I ignored her and clapped the man's performance. The cheeky guy took a dramatic bow, evidently pleased that he had entertained.

"Seems pretty harmless to me," I said. If he had wanted to hurt us, he could have done it any time when we were unaware of his presence. And with great force, evidently.

"Harmless?" said Julie, not believing her ears, "He shot lightning at you!"

"I shot the ground behind him," Armen corrected, "He asked for a demonstration of magic, I gave him the best one I could think of."

"Sam, you can't let him stay," pleaded Julie, "Mages are kept away from the rest of us, their power is too dangerous. The explosion from last night, they caused it!"

That caught my attention, let me tell you. Tam's explanation from the previous night had left out that detail, or rather, laid it out in a way I couldn't understand. My instincts still told me that Armen was not our enemy, but I needed to reassure both Julie and Tam. My intention was to take the elf along, for the same reasons I had taken Tam. He would be useful, and I thought I would like having him around. The latter being for a different reason than the Qunari. If I was going to survive in this world long enough to be rescued, I needed help. I quickly came up with a scheme.

"Tam, you heard me talking to Julie about the dragon, right?" I said, turning to her to ask.

"Yes..." Tam replied, unsure where I was going with the question.

"Did you believe the story?" I continued.

"Not until I saw you in person," Tam replied.

"I still don't believe it," joked Julie. I smiled back at that, as I knew perfectly well she believed me. She had been too interested in my stories to think them false.

"Oh ye of little faith," I said in an exaggerated tone, "I guess it's time to show you."

I turned back to Armen, who had been listening intently without comment. His head raised itself a bit as he realised my full attention was on him. In a way, I felt sorry for him. He was about to bear witness to something not seen by the peoples of this world before, as far as I was aware. Turned out that they had seen something like it, just not in the form I was about to demonstrate. Which was more disturbing to most, apparently.

"My turn," I said to him. He tilted his head, trying to get my meaning. I think what I did next proves that I am a bad person, as I did it with a sense of glee.

I drew the handcannon hanging on my hip fast, holding it with both of my hands. After flicking the safety off, I aimed and fired it twice. The bullets flew out of the barrel, followed by small muzzle flashes. They landed somewhere near the cart, pinging off something hard and ricocheting away into the woods. The sound of the firing also echoed around in a snapping sound off some of the rock formations at the edge of the river. It was a curiously nostalgic thing, actually.

The shots had missed Armen by a good amount of space, but it was close enough for him to hear them whistle by. He recoiled in surprise, losing his footing and and looked around at me. He dropped low, and held his staff in what I discovered afterwards was an attack stance. I holstered the weapon and held up my hands, gesturing for him to get up again. He did so, and returned to his seat. It was his turn to be amazed. I was confident that he wouldn't be trying anything stupid, seeing his reaction. The fear was real, at least.

"Are you alright?" I asked him.

"Not a problem," he said, returning to form, "I guess I deserved that, I did go overboard with my own trick, after all." His resilience was impressive. I went and offered my hand for him to shake, and he took it with no sign of animosity.

I sat back down on my box, and prepared another meal for the fire. As I placed it, I looked over at my companions. Julie had stopped eating again, and Tam was shellshocked. Both were gazing at me, as I knew they would be. I ignored them, knowing that they'd ask the question eventually. The one that came wasn't what I was expected.

"Where did you get a gaatlok weapon?" asked Tam after a few minutes of watching me prepare food, "If my people ever found you with this, they would certainly kill you to hide the secret."

And there I thought that I had something unique.

"You have firearms?" I asked, "Weapons like this?" I pat the side of my firelance. The Qunari nodded solemnly, her previous rage replaced entirely with something akin to reverence.

"They are our most powerful weapons, though I have never seen ones so small as those you have," Tam said, her eyes looking upwards as she remembered, "How they work our most closely guarded secret. Gaatlok is made by a special group overseen directly by the Arigena. Kings and Empresses would sacrifice half of their peoples for the knowledge."

"Is this … gaatlok stuff a black powder?" I asked.

"...Yes," said Tam, "You know of it?"

"Yeah, but it's obsolete to my people," I said, "We have developed better formulas."

Tam moved her eyes to her feet. The significance was huge, I realised. The knowledge I had, or the technologies that had been brought through with me, could change this new world and not necessarily for the better. The weapons alone could be the cause of millions of deaths if mismanaged. And from what I had seen up until that point, I was absolutely certain they would be.

Julie got up and walked over to me. She sat down close beside me.

"It is the work of the Maker," she said, "It couldn't be a coincidence, that you and I happened to end up in the same cell. You could be the downfall of the Qunari, the nobility, all those who think themselves above everyone else!"

"Or, I could be the downfall of your civilisation," I said, ignoring the comment about the Maker for the moment, "You can't tell anyone."

"Could you make this gaatlok stuff?" Julie pressed, squeezing my hands lightly to encourage an honest answer. Her eyes were lit up with excitement. It was impossible to ignore.

"Yes, but you still can't tell anyone!" I insisted. I had pretty extensive knowledge of the subject, actually. Homemade firearms and explosives were a huge problem for our soldiers in the years leading up to my removal from Earth, we had to know the formulas to be able to spot when someone was making them. And black powder is very easy to make if you have the right materials.

Silence descended again, as I pulled the next meal off the fire. I handed it to Tam, and she nodded her thanks. Julie was humming to herself, caught in her own thoughts and obviously happy as she continued eating. Undoubtedly thinking about the applications of explosive powder, given her profession, though I didn't know it at the time.

I began to get more food out of my pack, when Armen cleared his throat. I had almost forgotten he was there.

"About not telling anyone," the elf said, "I'm afraid I can't do that."

Tam bristled, shooting him another lethal look across her eyes. I thought I should probably inform him of what happened to the last person who displeased her to a great degree. And that I would let her repeat it if he was being unreasonable about the issue. But he continued before I could.

"I've lived in a Circle tower for most of my life, imprisoned for what I am," he said, "I like my new freedom. The rebellion gave that to me. If it fails, I go back to the tower or I'll be killed. Just for wanting to live my life outside of a prison. If you have a weapon that can help us, I have to tell my brothers and sisters. Sorry."

I looked at him blankly. I was still pretty much in the dark about the Circle of Magi, the events at Kirkwall and elsewhere, or Orlais' Great Game. But I understood that I had to learn more. Life-long imprisonment without trial for the act of being different has extremely ominous repercussions. The consequences of which I was compelled to seek out. I looked to my companions for the answers.

"What is he talking about?" I demanded, "Mages are locked up like animals?"

"Not like animals," said Julie, "In fact, they're treated better than most commoners. They are taught things, if they get sick they are looked after, and they never go hungry. They can even be treated as nobles in the royal court, like the _Madame de Fer_."

"A gilded cage is still a cage," Armen said softly, "Try watching parents have their child taken from them to be put into an orphanage or see mages forced to become Tranquil on the word of templars who abused them. We are not your enemies, but allies against those who would abuse us."

That stopped Julie cold, and she couldn't formulate any counterargument. I have to admit, thinking back now, Armen was very convincing. He knew exactly what button to push. In Madamoiselle Marteau's case, it was her animosity towards the rulers of the country. I thought then that it was because of her arrest and treatment at their hands over taxes she had no say in. It was deeper than that. He was able to provoke sympathy for his cause very easily, as it was the same set of bastards that had put him away. He couldn't possibly figure out a Qunari, however.

"They are a threat to everyone else," said Tam between forkfuls of chicken and rice, "Here, they are separated from society, and killed only if they break the rules seriously. It is softness compared to the Qun. They serve or they die, any disobedience is treason."

I found that easy to believe, having seen the power myself. However, I wasn't thinking in the right direction. I should have been asking where the power came from, rather than what a mage could actually accomplish. Also, given Tam's strong hostility to Armen, I was certain I could believe that her people treated magic users even worse.

"Alright, that's enough," I said, heading off the argument before it went further, "I just want to know if there's something I can do to get you to keep my secret?"

"Nothing," said Armen, "I can't let such valuable information go. We won't be herded and hid away any longer."

I sighed at the man's politely cheerful stubbornness. His smile hadn't left his face, even as he had argued his case. I wondered if he was so cheery when he was locked up in a tower somewhere. I handed him some food, which he received graciously.

A desperate thought occurred to me, as all the pieces fell into place.

I had a duty to protect this man. The founding principle of my own homeland was liberty, and here I was, refusing to help a man who had been deprived of that his whole life. I suddenly felt ashamed. Beyond that, there was the oath I had sworn to defend the right of people to be free of oppression. Other world or not, I didn't feel any different, I was a peacekeeper. According to the laws under which I served, what Armen, Julie and Tam had described as the life of mages constituted a crime against humanity. In other words, actions so heinous that they would have drawn the ire of the entire world. At least, back on Earth they would.

There was only one choice, if I was to maintain my own sense of honour. However limited it might be.

"We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness..." I said to myself, quoting the declaration of my homeland's freedom.

"...What does that mean?" asked Julie, her eyes agape.

"It means Armen's cause is worthy of consideration," I replied, somewhat embarrassed that I had spoken the words aloud, "If I were him, I would fight too."

"So, will you allow me to leave?" the elf asked, hopefully.

"Better. I can't fight for your cause, I don't know enough yet, but I can help in other ways," I said, "Come with me, and I'll try. Show you things that are potentially more powerful than the weapons I have here."

Armen's smile widened, and he gave a single nod. I guess he believed me, or perhaps he was just curious as to what I would bring to the table. Tam immediately stood up.

"You can't let him journey with us!" she complained. Her tone told me that she already thought it inevitable. This was to be her last word on the matter.

"You want to come to my country?" I said.

"Very much," Tam replied.

"Then you have to understand something," I continued, "If my country were to hear about how these mages have been treated, my people would be outraged. It might even be cause for us to send our armies, and trust me, there is nothing on this continent that could stop them. That's how evil they would view it as. And how evil I think it is." We had no shortage of ambitious men looking for any excuse, I might have added.

The Qunari sat down again, defeated.

"Very well, but I will act as his arvaarad and watch him," Tam said, waving her dagger at the mage menacingly. Armen seemed to find that funny. Really shouldn't have shown that so blatantly, friend. She's really good with that blade. Seriously, she'll flay you in seconds, stop grinning. I went over to her for reassurance, as I didn't want it to become a problem. I crouched down beside her, and she raised her head when I did so.

"Good, I trust you to do so," I replied. She grimaced a little, but accepted the responsibility. The mage did need watching. I may have liked him, but I wasn't stupid either.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to wash."

Julie's eyes tracked me as I went, while Armen tucked into his curried chicken with every hint of enthusiasm. Tam sat and brooded over the events, but didn't appear particularly unhappy. Things were still tense, but I hoped a little time off would help. The sun was finally beginning to make itself known, and the murky darkness of the forest riverbank started to dissolve.


	9. Magic II

I bathed in the river without incident. Being able to clean off the sweat of days and the dirt of a prison cell felt absolutely divine. The stream was very cold, but I couldn't care. I even swam a little downstream. By the time I was finished, I felt like I had been reborn, baptised in the new world's craziness and now immune to it. A naïve view, in truth, but it was just that sort of atmosphere. I felt a lot better after dealing with Armen and his predicament. Like a proper soldier again. I hoped that I had gained another person to rely on while I was here.

The temperature was on the up and the sun was rising higher. After drying myself with my sole towel, It began to feel very warm. I put on a fresh set of trousers, pulled on my boots, but left my top half uncovered. No point in burdening myself before I had to, I figured. I set about arranging my next move. I went to my bag to find the scribe's documents, but found my pack in disarray. Out of the corner of my eye, Armen was watching.

"Did you go through my stuff?" I asked politely.

"It was her," he said, "The pretty one."

"Which one is that?" I asked, knowing the answer would be a good one.

I think he realised that he had run himself into a trap. "Both of them," he smiled after a pause.

I chuckled and nodded. I guess he was a kindred spirit in more ways than one. To be honest, I could tell that immediately. Little did I know that many Circle mages were like that. Guess there isn't much else to do in a tower all the live long day except read and the other thing. Making them excellent people for two reasons, in my opinion.

"How did you manage to come into the company of two lovely ladies like that?" he asked, "I'm extremely jealous."

"Prison, would you believe?" I said, "We managed to break out last night."

Armen looked very thoughtful for a moment, like that meant something to him. He took out a small journal from the folds of his robes and made a note of it. It did mean something to him, in fact, but he kept his counsel. I didn't think much of it, that perhaps he was wondering how we managed it.

"Escaped from prison last night, you say?" he said, "Now, that is interesting."

Shaking my head at yet another random thing I wasn't going to get, I steered the conversation back on course.

"What did they take?" I said.

"Clothes," said Armen, "Clothes and crackers."

"Huh?"

The elf laughed for a bit, and walked away to the wagon again. He began talking to and feeding the horse. I shrugged away the issue, and got out the notes that Red Mask had waved around at the Orlesian equivalent of a show pre-trial. The front page was, inevitably, the sigil of the royalty; a lion and the face of a woman embraced by sunbeams, stamped onto the rough yellowish paper with blue ink. I opened the page, and a problem spat in my face.

The letters were not familiar to me at all.

I scratched my head, wondering at the paradox. I could speak the languages of this world as they were practically identical to two in my world, though their names were different. Common is called English, and Orlesian is French, in case you were wondering. Yet, despite this, the written language was unusual, or at least, the alphabet was. I managed to figure out that the most of the letters had direct counterparts in Latin script, the type you are now reading this story in. I looked out for a sequence that had the same number of letters as my fake name, Clint Eastwood, and quickly found it near the top of the first page. The rest was in Orlesian, so reading it quickly wasn't going to happen. I would need to decode it.

I sighed, and leaned back, holding the paper out to try anyway. Red Mask had said there was a huntsman, which meant there had to be a village nearby the dragon nest, from which I could search for my stash.

I was getting nowhere, when a cold hand landed on my bare shoulder. It was as if an ice creature had come up to say hello, the coolness biting into me. I shivered at the touch, and turned around to see who it was.

Julie was standing behind me. She was wearing a military shirt from my world that was large for her, my boots, and I presume something underneath, though the shirt was too long to know. Her hair was damp, and twisted around to one side like she had tried to wring the water out of it. I supposed she had been swimming too, though how I had failed to spot her the first time remains uncertain.

This was the first time I managed to have a look at her in light conditions that weren't bordering on darkness too. The prison cell not having much of skylight and the streets of Halamshiral at night being nearly pitch black. She was olive-skinned, and her brown hair had a strong hint of red to it. Her cheeks had a mild sprinkling of freckles. From head over heels to tumbling down a hill uncontrollably, was I.

She poked my back with her icy finger, halting my eyeing up of her. Which was hardly fair, she was doing the same to me. A question came that I probably should have anticipated.

"What is that tattoo?" she asked, "What does it mean?"

"A bald eagle, clutching arrows and an olive branch," I replied, "It's the coat of arms of my homeland."

"And the other one?" Her finger brushed across my back. She was teasing me.

"Coat of arms of the United Nations," I said, "My other employer, you could say, though it's a lot more complicated than that." It really is. I still need a drink or two to even bother to trying explain it.

"Is that a map in the net part?"

I had forgotten that the second tattoo displayed my entire world, and I still had not told anyone that I was from another world yet. Whoops. Not that Julie would have believed my cover story, or Tam for that matter, having eavesdropped on us.

"It is indeed," I said.

Julie gave me a troubled look, and began tracing my back with her finger, trying to get a better look at the map. This was the moment that the truth first entered her mind as a possibility, I suspect. She looked at it as if trying to work something out. I think the round shape of the map caused her to think it was a depiction of a sphere. That is to say, another world. It later surprised me when I learned that Thedosians knew that their planet was round.

The madamoiselle didn't pry, though she did something else. When she was done inspecting the map of Earth and the eagle, things started to escalate. She sat down and put her palm against my back, moving it around. Followed by her cheek. I straightened up on the box, just before she hugged me from behind, arms around my chest. You might think that it was a very pleasant, but it was actually like being hugged when naked by a god damned snowman. For a minute anyway. Albeit a very attractive snowman.

"Ah, you're warm," she said, and I nearly fell to pieces. She practically nuzzled me. I learned long ago not to question Julie's whims, but at this point, I was a bit conflicted about her forwardness. Though I think it was also what attracted me to her. Alas, contradictions of the male mind.

Thus began my long and glorious career as a body pillow. The End... Actually, wait, that joke is too close to the truth. Disregard it.

I let her be. If she was comfortable with it, then so was I. Before she had showed up, I was on the verge of overheating anyway. I didn't remember it being that warm when I had arrived, but then again, it had rained on my first day. I flicked through the papers again, trying to get my bearings on the language as best I could. The dual task of translating both the characters and the language was making it very slow going. There was a lot of legal bullshit I didn't understand either. I must have let out five sighs in as many minutes, as sentences revealed nothing of what I needed to know. I should have known that doing so would draw the attention and ire of Frosty the Avvar Snow-Woman.

Julie moved her head off my back and leaned her chin on my shoulder, peeking at the documents below. Which had very pleasant effects on how close we were, at the expense of a lot more cold contact.

"What are you doing?" she growled, "I'm trying my best here, and you're doing paperwork?"

I laughed loudly at that. We did have a moment back in the prison where we promised to explore this... whatever it was at that time. I turned my head to her.

"All these promises," I said quietly, "Careful."

"Never," she replied, her eyes narrowing, "What are you doing with that?"

"I'm trying to find the nearest village to where I was arrested, I hid a lot of useful stuff near there that I want to go get," I explained, "Problem is, I can't read the letters here. I'm not illiterate, they're just different where I'm from."

Julie reached under my arm with her own, and plucked the document from my hand. Her eyes moved from side-to-side as she examined the page that happened to be on top.

"Gethran's Crossing, a village of the Dales," she read aloud after less than five seconds, "It's on the way." She quickly put the documents on top of another box, and pinned them down with a small stone so they wouldn't blow away. Satisfied with her handiwork, she returned to clinging to the back of me. I was surprised she was able to read at all, given the state of things as I had seen them thus far.

"Thanks," I replied.

"I did it for my own, selfish reasons," she whispered in my ear.

Julie turned my head towards hers gently. Her grin faded, and suddenly it felt hot. The warm feeling one gets when something _interesting_ is about to happen began falling over me. My heartbeat increased, feeling every beat. I was sure that she could feel it as well. I had a slight lump in my throat as she slowly began to lean in, advancing an inch closer. Our eyes flickered around, examining each other. Her lips parted slightly, and our eyes locked. I turned slightly to her, as she repositioned herself. My hands fell to her lower back. She was soft and a lot warmer now. Hers rose to my shoulders. And...

Armen cleared his throat. The complete bastard.

I threw my head back in frustration at the interruption. Julie leaned her forehead on my shoulder, almost hiding from the elf. I very nearly said something unkindly.

"What is it, Armen?" I sighed, not wanting to sound too pissed off but probably failing.

"I don't mean to get in the way, but should you two be doing this when she is watching like that?" he asked, pointing off behind the both of us.

"What are you..." Julie began complaining, as we both craned our necks to see.

Tam was reposed on a rock beside the river, sunlight pouring down from the canopy. Her legs were crossed and she was supporting herself on her hands as she leaned back, sunning herself. Her hair and horns are wet, and her eyes were watching us though her head was turned towards the light.

The real problem is that she was entirely naked. To the extent that almost nothing was left to the imagination. Evidently, she was enjoying herself by drying off in the warmth, instead of robbing mine as Julie did. She continued watching our little scene from her perch, looking somewhat disappointed that it had ended. It was a great moment.

I really do have a type. The forward type. The fearless.

Julie slapped her hand over my eyes, as she laughed. Too late, I had already seen everything. Ha ha.

"What are you doing up there?" she asked the Qunari.

"I cleansed," Tam replied in a tone of absolute relaxation, "I must dry myself."

"I got that," said Julie, "Why couldn't you dry off elsewhere?"

"You ran off, I wanted to see why," Tam said, sounding serious but probably having that smile of hers on. I don't know for sure, as I was still blinded.

"Is it usual for Qunari, or mages, to interrupt other people's business?" Julie asked sarcastically.

"Sex was part of my business under the Qun," said Tam bluntly, "I was Tamassran, as I've told you."

"And there isn't much privacy in the Circle tower," Armen added, half-laughing, "My apologies."

An exasperated sigh erupted from the person beside me, to which I let out a small whimper of amusement. I got a slap on my back for my trouble.

I remember thinking that we really needed to have that chat about professions soon. I was pretty sure that a job that mixed archery, precision dagger work and sex would have a good story behind it. Little did I know that it was actually even more interesting than that. And there was still the mystery of Julie's own line of work.

For the record, that incident was also the first time I saw Tam outside of the dark either. Her hair turned out to be a silver-gold, rather than just pure white. Torchlight, whether its origins are flames or flashlights, didn't do it justice in the slightest. As for the rest, you can use your imagination.

After that, Julie complained some more but didn't really have her heart in it, and everyone got back into their normal state of dress. I once again donned my armour, and feeling worthy of it, finally donned my blue beret for the first time since arriving. With the drama over, we packed up our things quickly, tossing everything into the cart that wasn't trash. I burned the MRE packets, keeping some of the reusable containers, to avoid someone getting hold of either.

We got moving again quickly. The whole bathing incident had greatly defused tensions between all of us, over the rebellion and whether or not we trusted each other. So, we proceeded in very good spirits.

 


	10. Magic III

Between there and the crash-site, nothing really happened. I sat in the back with Julie and Armen, while Tam was conscripted to drive for her sins. We travelled quietly for the most part, alert to anyone coming from either direction. There was no shortage of those either, and despite being relaxed, we tracked every new group or individual as a precaution. Many looked at our group with curious interest, something I attributed to our mix of individuals from different races. Despite that, it was pretty boring.

I had two interesting conversations during some downtime, however.

The first was with Julie. Something other than her wit or looks had caught my attention.

"By the way, how is it that you can read?" I asked, my tone as gentle as possible.

"The old Revered Mother back home made sure all the children could, before she got too old for it," Julie replied, not insulted by the question at all, "In fact, most people in the Hearthlands and the surrounding areas can read, but if you go further, most can't. I guess the Chantry has other priorities now, the new mother is much more of a firebrand and not much of a teacher."

This was both surprising and unsurprising. Religious organisations had long taken an interest in education in my world, for better or worse, but teaching serfs and commoners en masse seemed a bit out of reach for what my countrymen would call a medieval society. The Revered Mother must have been a woman of great wisdom, I thought.

Julie went to sleep afterwards, leaning against my shoulder. I left her to it. She had got us this far, driving the wagon through the night. It was a strange feeling, going back to the place where Fraser and his men had died, where I had despaired, in such good company. Like visiting very old friends that you haven't seen in years with a group of new friends.

The other interesting conversation was with Armen.

"So, why did you steal my cart?" he joked from the back of the wagon.

"Why were you stowing away on the back of your own wagon?" I shot back, "Just checking the inside of that box, were you?"

Armen waved his finger at me. "That would be telling, wouldn't it."

"So, you won't tell me who the lady driving it was?" I continued, "Friend of yours? Perhaps more?"

"Temporary acquaintance, a friend of a friend," he smiled, "She very kindly agreed to lend me the wagon in return for a small fee and a promise."

"From the rebellion?" I asked.

"For a third party, on behalf of the rebellion," he corrected me, "You don't seem very knowledgeable about current events."

"Oh, I just flew in," I said truthfully, "Dropped out of the sky, really."

Armen just watched me with a smirk.

"Where are your wings?" he said, "You are … extremely strange."

"How so?" I asked.

"The things you say are bizarre," he said, "The principles you stand for are entirely alien to these lands. Dangerous in the extreme even. Yet you bear them openly, and without fear of retribution."

I smirked at that. "You've seen my weapons, I'm capable of plenty of retribution in my own right."

"Then there's her and her," he said, pointing out Julie and Tam, "They both seem loyal to you, and I think I understand why."

"I can't possibly imagine why myself," I said, honestly enough. I doubted the few stories of my country I had told could sway a person that much. I would be proved wrong on that. One should never underestimate the power of a story to instil hope. It still seemed like Julie and Tam knew a lot more about me than I knew about them.

"It's a madness almost," Armen chuckled, "I hope you'll be able to help me, so I follow you, but I have no proof. I'm sure the others are the same."

"I will do what I can," I replied, "If even half of what you say is true, about what you have gone through and seen I mean, then it would dishonour all my oaths to ignore it. Besides, it doesn't look like I'm going home soon."

"I'm glad to hear it," he said.

We went on to discuss the Templar Order at some length, with Tam chiming in at parts, particularly with regard to their combat abilities. The details everyone in Thedas knew came first. They exist to protect the world from the dangers of magic, and they have certain capabilities to carry out their duties. They guard mages in towers called Circles, separating them from the rest of society by force. They test young mages to see if they can resist possession by demons. That last detail made me snicker. Cults of all kinds had used the same excuse to gain power over people in my world, so I assumed it was the same. Even when Armen assured me that it was a real threat, I didn't believe him. And wouldn't for quite a while.

The elf then spoke of the reality of the Circles. I won't get into the details here, as they are better discussed in relation to another incident, but I will say that I was utterly disgusted. The absolute contempt for the lives of the people imprisoned, the lack of any due process, the abuses, the complete apathy and lack of oversight. It was the same poison that I had been fighting against on Earth. It made me physically sick with anger for a brief moment.

I quickly calmed down, with a little help. Julie shifted her weight onto me a little in the midst of my fit, defusing my wrath instantly. Armen and I had a good chuckle as she spoke in her sleep about chicken.

* * *

By the time we arrived near my crash-site about six hours after we set out from our morning camp, it was hot and humid.

There was no need to search using the town that Julie had indicated from the documents. When we were close, it was obvious. The damage that the dragonfire had wrought was visible from the road, and the layout was familiar to me. The fire had spread further than I thought, blackened trees standing among their still green neighbours. Of course, if I hadn't known which village to look for, we could have went by another road, so it was still good luck. The wagon rumbled along on the uneven ground slowly once we got off the path. The horse was tired after so long a journey, we wouldn't be going anywhere again today. Which suited me just fine, really. It was almost like a pilgrimage for me.

We rounded the ridgeline where Fraser had made his stand, and what was left of the dragon came into view. Something had picked almost all of the flesh off of it in the two days since I had seen it. It was now a skeleton, its ribs collapsed in on themselves and not a scrap of meat was left. The corpses of the dragonlings were entirely missing.

I wondered if there was a predator or scavenger animal in the forest that had done it, but it seemed precise work. Dragonhide is highly valued for its toughness, being comparable in properties to the materials used in my armour. I had a vague notion of that at the time, again due to the stories told about dragons in my world. I had no idea about the illegal market in dragon meat, though. Dragons were all property of the Crown in Orlais, which was why the fangs had been the big deal.

The others looked at the dragon with a sense of awe. Julie sat up straight, rubbing sleep out of her eyes rapidly. Armen's smile disappeared, and his face sharpened. Tam kept glancing between the dragon and I with an impressed look on her face. I couldn't help but milk it, of course.

"Told you we killed a dragon," I said, thinking of how the soldiers faced down the beast with no fear again. Compared to the swine in uniform I had met so far, they were gods among men.

Julie shoved me away playfully with a smile on her face, and got up to get a better look. They really don't call it the Dragon Age for nothing.

The helicopter's shell also became visible as we passed further into the meadow. The sight of it drew open gasps from all of my companions. It almost looked like a metallic monster with its mouth wide open from the angle we were approaching from. A man once said that sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic. In the case of the vehicle that brought me here, it was sufficient enough to make the inhabitants of a world with magic think it was beyond magic. But then, Thedas is and was still fairly primitive. Thanks to its many stubborn zealots, and for no other reason.

"What is that?" asked Armen, the one who hadn't heard my story in the prison block.

"It's how I got here," I said. The elf looked confused, and I couldn't blame him. Although the helicopter had wheels, they were small and the entire thing was made of metal. It would have taken teams of horses to move it on the ground, without its machinery working anyway.

"A flying machine..." said Julie with wonderment.

I had told her about aircraft when I was discussing my travels on Earth, as she had asked how I had been to so many places in so little time. She hadn't reacted at the time, but seeing it in person was a different experience. She hopped off the side of the cart and rushed, not bothering to wait until it had stopped. We watched her disappear up the ramp at the back, the others carrying a worried look. By the time Tam had pulled the wagon up alongside the machine, Ms. Marteau had began opening every compartment in the thing. I watched her move about inside through the round windows, as she tried to figure it out.

"Is she serious?" Armen asked, as we climbed down off the wagon.

"Deadly serious," I replied, "My country has had flying machines for a hundred years."

"Impossible," the elf replied, "You would have conquered the world if that was true."

"We did," I replied. That confused him very much, and he stood back and watched us from afar as we moved closer. Though I might add that we didn't conquer it with aircraft or firelances. We left that sort of thing to the British.

Our Qunari friend joined the inspection, running her hand on the metal skin covering the machine and looking at the symbols painted on its side. She did so as if it was an animal at first, softly moving her hand over it, before confirming that it was in fact a machine. She rapped her knuckles off of it. She was trying to work out if it was a trick of some kind, I realised. She sat down on the edge of the hull that stuck out slightly and looked at me.

"What does this say?" Tam asked, tapping the inscription written between her legs. Which gave me flashbacks to the riverbank, just a bit.

"Royal Air Force," I said, after clearing my throat to clear my mind, "The round symbol is theirs too."

"Royal? I thought you said you didn't have nobles in your country," she asked.

"This machine belongs to an allied nation," I said, "But their Queen only has ceremonial power." Which was also the country from which my former homeland declared independence, much like Fereldan and Orlais. But better. Tam nodded, rubbing the metal skin of the helicopter again.

"I agree with the mage," she said, "This is impossible. Yet I'm sitting on it, touching it. I don't understand."

"It would be hard to without seeing it in action," I said, "I've flown in this and things like it more times than I can count. It's actually boring to me."

Tam watched me for a moment, and nodded. She believed what she could see and touch, and I guess this was good enough along with analysing whether or not I was lying. I wasn't. I would later miss flying very much, as travel by horse, carriage or sailing ship just takes too long. The result of which is another tale in this story. The Qunari was satisfied either way.

"If this is truly a machine that flies, show us," Armen said, like it was a wager, "I want to see."

"It's damaged badly," I said flatly, "The parts that make it fly are banged up, and I'm not sure I could start the machinery with the controls smashed to shreds either." I pointed to the front, which was nothing but ragged metal. Armen glanced there, and frowned. I guess he really wanted a demonstration. He wasn't alone.

Julie finally exited the interior and returned to us, slightly red faced but with a very pleased look about her. The excitement flowed off of her. It was at times like these that I appreciated her most. Well, almost most.

"I give up," she said, "Tell me how it works."

She stared at me, awaiting the answer with bated breath. I was happy to oblige her. I took her by the hand and brought her to the side, where she could see the whole thing. Tam followed, while Armen just listened in interested silence from the rear. I had a decent enough analogy for the whole thing, and I remain astonished that I was able to come up with it on the spot.

"You know how a windmill catches the wind in its blades?" I said, "Well, imagine that instead of the wind pushing the blades, there was a machine that turned the blades to push the wind."

I pointed to the two raised sections on the roof at the front and back, where bent and broken metal blades hung off, some limp in their sockets, others still jutting out. My companions eyes followed my direction. They were all ears now.

"The blades are there, as you can see," I said, "They push the air down, lifting the whole thing up."

I indicated for them to stay, while I climbed up onto the hull. I went to the back, balancing as best I could on the rounded top. It took some effort and no small application of force, but I managed to open up the skin of the machine to reveal its engine, the metal piping and wires sticking out. After a few minutes to catch my breath, I explained further.

"This is what drives the blades to turn along with one on the other side," I said, "They are turned so fast that you can barely see them, and it pushes the air downwards with the force of a storm."

I climbed down to rejoin the others.

Julie was holding her chin, her head inclined downwards in deep thought.

"I don't understand how you would move the blades fast enough," she said, "But seeing this... I think it's possible, but I can't believe it."

I slid down and sat against the helicopter, and drank from my canteen. The sun was absolutely beaming down, and there was little cover.

"I told you," I said, "We don't have magic where I am from. So we rely on machinery and… I suppose you'd call it alchemy."

Julie and Tam sat down beside me on either side, and the latter took my flask from my hand. She drank deeply for a moment, and handed over again.

"I was right to follow you," she said, "The Qunari could never defeat a country with such power."

"America, fuck yeah!" I declared with a laugh, drawing more confused glances. I couldn't explain that, so I just waved it off. The others returned to their places.

"So all you said about horseless carriages, buildings the height of mountains, the food..." Julie said, "All true?"

"All true," I said, "Especially the food."

"And no nobles?" she asked.

"No nobles," I confirmed. We had our elites like any society, of course, but no one was their slave.

She looked up at the sky. She blindly took my hand and threaded her fingers with mine.

"How wonderful," she said. She began tightening her grip a little, and rubbing her thumb on the top of my hand. Which was very pleasant. Ah, the nostalgia of that moment still hits me pretty hard.

"Don't forget weapons of mass destruction and ice cream," Tam added, having no clue about either. She moved to join us, a huge smile on her face.

Unfortunately, they never would see my world. Nor would I see it ever again. We would learn this in a most disturbing fashion. This would have consequences for both the circle of people assembled beside the machine from another world, and far far beyond. Julie's enthusiasm for the descriptions of my country and my world was deep rooted in the reality she found herself in. Tam's own reasons were no less valid. The realisation would send both to great heights. This is another reason for my writing of this text. Though it may only ever be read by a very few, privileged people, it must be recognised that this is where it began.

Armen moved closer to the metal, and went to touch it. I watched him for any betrayal of his feelings. His face was one of study, as he scanned the machine visually, still unsure of what to make of it.

When he finally made contact with the metal, he withdrew his hand sharply and stepped back. He looked over the helicopter again, like it was snapping at him or something.

I raised an eyebrow. The elf wandered over in front of us, and smiled.

"I believe you now," Armen said, "This machine has been touched deeply by the Fade. You are not of this world."

I groaned. The secret was out, I knew. He wasn't lying either way, at least about the second part. I had no idea what the Fade was. I put my face in my hands for a moment, before releasing myself. The mage just had to say it, I remember grumbling under my breath.

"I also told you that you couldn't believe where I had come from," I said wearily to the two sitting beside me.


	11. Gods of Men

Julie got up from her sitting position and knelt on both legs beside me.

"It's true?" she asked, a worried look on her face. I felt my chest tighten at the question and the look. Not being able to tell the truth for fear of being thought crazy was one thing, but not doing so made me feel guilty anyway. I had thought I would feel relief if the truth ever came out, so I felt even more guilty for my mistake.

"It is," Armen said, before I could speak, "And yet, he is no demon. I've felt no signs to indicate otherwise from him despite sitting beside him for hours. The real question is what is he?"

"Demons don't exist," I said, "I'm a person, just like you, I was just born somewhere else. Does it matter if it's another place here or another world?"

Tam shifted her weight beside me. I turned to see what she was doing, only for her to start poking and prodding me. The Qunari got very close indeed as she proceeded to inspect as much of me as possible. She pulled at my face, felt under the chest-plate of my armour, poked at my hip, and even groped me briefly, before finally relenting with a short hum. Resisting didn't seem like a good idea at the time. Her daggerwork wasn't something to be crossed when she was barely an inch away, and given the bombshell that had just been dropped, I wasn't sure of her state of mind. Besides, it wasn't unpleasant.

"What was that for?" I asked. She gave a blank look back in return, like the question was absurd.

"If you are not a demon, then you are definitely human," she concluded, with a nod, "Anatomically speaking." She returned to her previous place with a satisfied air.

"No shit, Sherlock," I replied.

"How are we going to return to your world?" Tam asked, ignoring what I had said, "How did you come here?"

"Will another flying machine come?!" Julie added, returning to a cheerful state. She was practically bouncing, actually.

"If we're going to leave quickly, it is probably the only way," Tam continued, "I've never flown before."

The presumption that they'd be coming along for the ride if my countrymen came to rescue me emptied a lot of the worry out of my mind. I guessed the revelation didn't really change much for either of them. In truth, it actually provided even more motivation for them, given what they were trying to escape. Another world, where they'd be safe, beckoned. I was just glad they weren't running from me in horror, or getting ready to turn me over to some nutjobs to burn me at the stake. My affection for them beyond the aesthetic jumped up still further.

"I'm hoping they'll come, yes," I said to Julie, "My people are very smart. It might take a while, months even, but they'll find out what happened and will try a rescue. We don't leave anyone behind." I left the possibility of the conquest of Thedas by the nations of Earth unexpressed. Largely because I would have been perfectly happy to watch that unfold, but I doubted my companions would have been.

"What did happen?" asked Armen, leaning against his staff, "Describe how you came to Thedas."

I told him the tale. How we were flying from one place to another when everything started to shake. The green sparks that flowed all over the helicopter's body, sticking to the metal like it was magnetic or something. Our rough landing and the death of the pilots. Armen asked if the green light had touched me. I told him that it didn't, which set him mumbling to himself. Stuff about the Fade, demons, magi and who knew what else. None of which I understood, and most of which I still don't.

Unable to make out what he was saying, I turned my attention to the others again. Tam and Julie were whispering to each other. Which was alarming in itself, without what came next.

"Take off your clothes," Julie ordered, pointing at me.

I could have gotten enthusiastic about that command, especially coming from the two beautiful women who issued it, but the problem was that I very much doubted they wanted to have fun. They didn't look like they were up for that, and the timing was too bizarre to begin with. Not knowing why they were asking, I stood up and backed off a little. They followed together, choreography perfect.

"I don't think now's the best time," I replied lightheartedly.

"Just do it," grinned Julie, "I promise we won't hurt you."

"Why does Tam look like she's going to?" I joked, taking another step back.

The Qunari's eyes flickered back and forth between me and the floor in a very suspect manner. She wasn't wearing her trademark smile, which would have terrified me, she was just watching me, like I was something interesting she wanted to eat. Julie looked at her accomplice, and her grin grew wider. Which didn't make me feel much better.

"She's just curious," the latter said, "Help me out here." She even fluttered her eyes for a moment, attempting to distract me. And Maker help me, it worked. Julie always could distract me, and I am a sucker for a honeypot. Thankfully, every time someone else has attempted to exploit this, others have stopped me in my tracks. The very two attempting the trick at that moment, more often than not.

While I was busy going soft at the knees, Tam jumped on me.

She grabbed, swinging her arms around me, putting a leg behind one of mine and then using our weight to drop me. I landed on my back, and she on top of me. Which I probably could have appreciated, given her extremely feminine form. Except I was wearing armour, which made me entirely insensitive in the relevant areas of contact. Plus the slight ache of my bruises were distracting. She quickly pinned my legs with her knees, and pushed my shoulders down with her hands. I began regretting my decision to resist, as Tam's mirthful face appeared not five inches away from the tip of my nose. She was enjoying herself.

"Alright, alright," I said, squirming a little, "I give in!" Not that I couldn't have turned the situation around, it just would have required far more violence than I was prepared to inflict on the aggressor in this case. Besides, the view wasn't bad. Tam withdrew from my shoulders, but sat on my legs and crossed her arms across her chest, producing an interesting effect.

Julie knelt down beside us, and began undoing the straps of my armour. I tried to help, but she slapped my hands as they moved to do so.

"Ouch!" I said, laying my hands on my head to avoid another strike.

"Just want to see your tattoos," said Julie, "Relax."

"Why the hell didn't you say that?!" I complained.

A dastardly smirk appeared on Julie's face. Damned prankster.

"Tam wondered if you would stop us from seeing them," she reported, "So I said that we shouldn't give you a choice."

"Because it would be funny to watch her take me down," I said, finishing her sentence.

"Now you're getting it!" she said, barely containing her laughter while patting my head like I was a dog. I clicked my tongue, nothing to say to her audacity. Like I said, prankster. It didn't dampen my infatuation in the slightest, though.

She pulled off the armour and had Tam get off my legs. The Qunari complied with a nod. I sat up and rubbed them a little, trying to work the pain and numbness out. It went away after a few minutes. The pair of them sat down behind me, and rolled up my shirt to see my back. The poking and prodding began anew.

"See, I told you," said Julie, "He has a map of his world on his back, right there."

A soft poke to my left shoulder blade indicated as much. I sighed and sat still. Better to let them get it out of their system.

"It seems be a map," agreed Tam, "But it's small, I can't make out the details."

I coughed twice to get their attention. The prodding stopped for a moment.

"We're not done yet," said Julie with false sweetness, "Just hang on a little more."

"If you want to see a map of my world, I have a better one than that," I said, ignoring her dismissal.

"Really?" she asked.

"Yeah," I replied, "Give over my pack there."

I rolled down my shirt, and moved up against the helicopter again, dragging my armour and combat webbing with me. Tam sat down beside me as Julie tossed over the bag with both hands, and Armen recovered from his trance to start paying attention again. Once everyone was comfortable in a circle around me, I rummaged through the pack for the prize.

I unfolded the map in the middle of the group. It was a mixed physical and political map, showing both the major geographic features of my world and the borders of nations. The others huddled to see, Armen standing behind the two women to gawk at it. I pointed to the north-western continent.

"This is my homeland," I said, "The United States of America."

"The one with all the wonders you keep talking about?" Armen asked.

"We're not the only ones with that sort of thing," I said, "But yes."

"Is that where you started from?" Julie asked, "Or were you somewhere else?"

"We weren't at home, no," I said, before pointing to an area near the connection between two other continents, "We were here, a place called Syria. Nasty place, it's just big desert for the most part. Most of the people hate us there too. We invaded after there was a civil war, to stop the flow of refugees from overwhelming our allies and destroy … well, I suppose you would call it a death cult."

"You keep saying you are not a soldier," said Tam, "But you keep talking about a war." I exhaled wearily. Not least because of memories of the many frustrations resulting from not being able to handle every situation like a soldier would. Sometimes, just killing a lot of people is a lot more simple, although it makes things a lot more complicated if you do. So I don't recommend it.

"I will explain that," I said, "I promise."

Tam seemed impatient, but I didn't give a nug's backside. It wasn't like she was eagerly giving me details about her life, and although I was interested, I certainly wasn't bugging her about it. I guessed a lot of the details from what she had said, of course.

Julie was eagerly taking in the entire map, and had picked it up. Her eyes were scanning every detail, as she got caught up in her enthusiasm for a moment. I watched in amusement, wondering if she was trying to work out how large Earth was compared to her world, which would have been my first instinct to check. In fact, she was doing something else, using a skill of hers that I would learn about shortly.

"You've said 'we' a couple of times now," said Armen, "Who else came with you?"

I felt a pang of sadness for the others, not to mention guilt. After all, here I was, cavorting about with two beautiful women, and they were dead. The question needed an answer, but simply saying it didn't seem right. I got up, put on my armour and weapons again, and stretched out for a second.

"Come with me," I said. The others followed readily enough.

* * *

I led them down the meadow and to the rock I had sheltered behind when the dragon had stomped its way towards me. There, the headstones and graves sat seemingly undisturbed. A row of them, where the soil was easiest to dig. Soil that was now hardened by the sun.

"What are these?" Julie asked, still carrying the map.

"Graves," intoned Tam solemnly, "For the dead."

"You don't burn your dead?" Armen asked.

"Depends on what god you believe in," I replied, "As far as I was aware, all of them wanted to be buried, not burned."

I placed my hand on Patel's headstone, remembering how he stood up to the dragonlings. I bet myself that he'd hit on Tam, if he had lived.

"These were soldiers too?" Tam asked.

"Yes," I said, "They weren't under my command, and I didn't know them for more than an hour or so, but I couldn't just leave them to rot."

"I take it that you are not an Andrastian, then," Armen said.

"I don't even know what that means," I replied.

"It's worship of the Maker," Julie said, "And the saviour Andraste, who freed Thedas from slavery under the Old Tevinter Imperium and then ascended to join him as his bride. I'm not really qualified to speak about it, though."

I was intrigued by that. The Maker sounded pretty much like God, the deity of many religions on Earth including my own. Though I was a very doubtful and passive believer at the best of times. Open worship for births, deaths and marriages strictly. Prayer only before battle. The saviour of this world being female was the really interesting part. I wondered for a moment if the Maker and God were the same deity. It is said on Earth that God works in mysterious ways. Either way, the saviour on Earth and the saviour in Thedas are very much different, though I was clueless at the time. Plus there were other religions on Earth that didn't share the perspective and there are atheists who believed entirely in the natural world alone. I'm not one to say that either were completely wrong.

"It seems to me that there is no shortage of gods," said Tam, wandering down the line of stones, "I once thought the Qun was absolute truth. Now, I do not think it is possible for us mortals to ever know. We're too flawed."

"The gods didn't help these when a dragon came," Armen said, "What use are they?"

I couldn't argue with that, but it brought something less serious to mind.

"Well, someone once said that a prayer and a gun was a lot more effective than a prayer alone," I said, smiling to myself, "God helps those who help themselves."

"Exactly," replied Julie, "We can't expect divines to help us with every little thing. They have to concentrate on keeping the whole universe spinning."

"A convenient way of lamenting the lack of divine intervention in the world," mused Armen, "Much like the Chantry's claims that the Maker ignores humanity's pleas, because he is displeased with them."

"I suppose it is," I said, conceding the point. We were quiet for a moment, all of us doing our own thinking. I don't really remember what I was thinking about that brought up the next part of the conversation. Maybe it was Andraste.

"The Tevinter Imperium..." I thought aloud, "Is that a country or a religion?"

"A country, and they're still around," replied Tam, "Ruled by mages, everyone else is essentially a slave to some degree. My people are fighting them even now."

"Sounds like a shithole," I said immediately, "Are there slave rebellions?"

"There are," Julie replied, "The Qunari exploit them, more often than not." Tam nodded, confirming that last part.

One more thing to add to the list of moral and political abominations existing in Thedas, and everything thus far was nothing compared to the other things I would discover. My impression of the place was held together entirely by the good character of my companions by this point, the only thing holding my instinct to start a one-man war back. I had a formidable arsenal to start regime changes, after all. But the armoury that had come through with me was actually the least powerful of the weapons at my disposal.

"I take it that you being Tamassran is why you know so much," said Armen, his cheerful tone somehow menacing. Tam took it in her stride, and nodded.

"Knowledge is the primary virtue of that profession, yes," she said.

Suddenly, a stomach growled loudly.

I smirked, as I realised both that the culprit was Julie and just how hungry I was myself. It had been morning since we had eaten, and I was still far from used to hunger. I would get used to it at various times.

"Sorry," she said, looking away in shame. Which was actually cute. I just wanted to hug her and laugh, though I was careful to give nothing away.

Tam cocked an eyebrow, as Julie put a hand over her face in embarrassment, trying to hide a truly red blush. "That was the loudest stomach grumble I have ever heard," Tam said, deliberately adding to the embarrassment with a small grin. Julie quickly slapped the Qunari's arm once or twice, to get her to hush.

I exhaled a breath of amusement through my nose, deciding to spare everyone. "That's alright, I think it's time we ate and talked," I replied, "We seem to have a lot of questions about each other. Might as well get them out of the way over some steak."

"Steak?" asked Julie and Tam simultaneously, their eyes on fire. I should have remembered their fondness for meat, given how little they supposedly got to eat it. They were very happy.

"We can hardly eat chicken all the time," I joked.


	12. Discoveries I

 

We got a fire going with little difficulty, though I was hoping to impress my companions with a little Earth chemistry. You see, the flying machines of my world require fuel to work, a flammable liquid, much like a furnace or fireplace would require wood or charcoal. I had intended to take some of this to make the process of creating a cooking fire much more easy, but when I checked the tanks containing it, they were entirely empty. Long gashes were along them in parallel in groups of three, like something had clawed at the metal. This discovery changed my perspective on our arrival to Thedas somewhat. While slightly disappointed that I couldn't wow anyone, I reflected that it was probably the reason we crashed rather than landed. This was because I had incorrectly assumed that the pilots were still alive once the transition was complete, but it was not the case. The clawmarks on the fuel tanks were a clue that would only fall into a bigger picture some time later.

So, it was left to Armen to show his skills. As well as his electricity, his repertoire of tricks extended beyond that to my surprise. He almost set me on fire in the process. We gathered plenty of dead wood and gorse, piling some of it up for later use and putting the rest in a stone circle just off the ramp of the helicopter. I had a firelighter from my world, and as I bent down to light some of the dry brush, the elf created a small fireball out of thin air and chucked it. The tinder burst into life, surprising me. The others were off getting more wood, thankfully, so there was no embarrassment. Still didn't stop me from checking to see if my eyebrows had been singed off, which they hadn't. I gave Armen my Number One Officer-Is-Pissed-Off look, which worked well.

"Sorry, didn't think you would bend down when you did," he said, smile scurrying away quickly. He was either genuinely sorry or I was scaring him, so I let him off and decided to address the other question the event had raised.

"You can summon fire too?" I asked.

"Yes, lightning and fire are my specialities," he said, his smile returning, "They're agents of change. Quite appropriate for me, don't you think?"

"You could say that," Julie said, returning with an armful of twisted logs, "Bet they're great against people who annoy you." She dropped the wood and dusted off her hands.

"And for cooking," Armen added, not denying her point. Given what I had seen earlier in the morning, I had no doubt he was a formidable force to be reckoned with in any fight. Turns out he wouldn't have been so great against me, which in retrospect is a little funny.

Tam emerged from the woods with half a large tree dragging behind her, which meant we would have enough for the night as long as the elf's tricks held out. Which they would. All that was left was to start cooking. I only had two MREs left, after four of them disappeared into the mouths of my fellows in the morning. I realised that the food was going to disappear far sooner than I had hoped. Definitely before we reached Julie's village, especially if we ate three square a day. Annoyed at this development, I started what I had on the fire quickly, before getting up to get some more from my stash with the weapons.

"Mind the food," I said, "I'll get more."

I got up and walked off to the cave, as the others made themselves comfortable, laying out the blankets we had stolen from the prison on the grass and sitting down. At least they were getting comfortable. I still couldn't shake a bad feeling, as I approached the cache.

I slowed my pace, searching the ground for any signs of disturbance. The grass and soil seemed to be mostly the way it was when I was captured, albeit more solid now as it was dry. There was nothing resembling signs of human activity, but there were a number of tracks leading into the cave. Wary of the fauna of Thedas as I had become by necessity, I drew my handcannon and crept up on the entrance. I flinched as something emerged.

It was a pair of black nugs, the first time I ever saw them. They're similar to large rabbits in my world, with larger ears and shorter hair. Weird paws though, too much like hands for my liking. The two looked at me, both heads tilted in curiosity as I pointed my weapon at them. I guess they were investigating the place as a potential burrow, and hadn't expected to see me. I lowered my weapon an inch, as they obviously weren't a threat. They scurried away along the cliff wall, probably to some other burrow or cave to hide. There is a comedy story in my world where a rabbit kills several knights before being killed with a "holy" hand grenade. I was quietly amused that I had drawn my weapon on them, remembering the story, as I holstered it. I wasn't the only one amused, however.

"What are you doing?" Julie asked from behind. I almost jumped out of my skin. I guess I was so deep in my thoughts that I hadn't heard her approach. She wasn't laughing, but her eyes were. I quickly coughed away my surprise, to cover my bases. Getting jumpy at the sight of a nug was more or less something to be ashamed of.

"Just... making sure the cave is safe," I said, pulling down my armour into a more comfortable position, "You know, in case anything dangerous is hiding in it."

"Like two cute nugs?" she replied.

"Is that what a nug is?" I replied, not answering the question, "Are they tasty?"

I pretended to search for them again, one hand on my weapon, running around a couple of steps as if I desperately wanted to eat them. I got a giggle from my audience out of that.

"They are, but I'd rather have steak," Julie replied, "Can we go get some?"

"After you," I said, holding out my arm. She bowed gracefully, playing along with the joke, and proceeded inside.

The cave, despite being well hidden from the outside, was still large enough for both myself and Julie to walk upright inside. It curved around into the cliff face, meaning the opening wasn't obvious, but anyone bothering to search would find it easily. Both of us are far from small, particularly by the standards of Thedas, so I was surprised that no one had found the hiding spot considering its size. Not to mention that the sunlight fell into it almost directly at that time of day. Both my captors and the poachers for dragon parts had plenty of opportunity. My relief was audible when I turned the corner to find all the boxes and packs entirely undisturbed. Even the large firelance I had hid at the back was dry, my fears of flooding unrealised.

"What is all of this?" Julie asked, banging the top of a metal container with her palm.

"Weapons, mostly," I replied, "We were transporting them to our allies, one of my duties was to go along for the ride to train soldiers."

"Weapons like yours?" she asked. I nodded in response. She looked at the boxes like they would explode any moment, but stood her ground. Anything that could lay a dragon low was probably something absurdly powerful in her mind, and she wasn't wrong. Of course, the weapon I had actually used to kill the beast was gone, and there was only one other remaining. Though the damn beast would have bled to death eventually anyway, considering just how many wounds it had taken.

I reached up and grabbed Fraser's bag, the one I had filled with the rations. It was tipped over, probably from the nugs having a good sniff at it, but it was otherwise intact. Yet more cause for celebration.

"Here, carry this," I said to Julie, "It's all the food I have left." She moved further into the cave and put the bag on her back, fiddling with the straps. She shifted the weight around a little, but it was far from a real burden. Another otherworld innovation that would catch like wildfire later; backpacks. I watched her, realising the potential, then went to the back of the cave. I wasn't quite finished yet.

"What are you doing now?" she called, as I picked up the large firelance.

"Just moving some things," I replied, depositing it on top of the boxes. No need to hide it if we're camped outside, I thought. Anyone looking to sneak in would be mincemeat regardless.

"Moving weapons?" she asked. I wondered if she was bothered by the sight of the weapons, but that was far from the truth. I turned to her with a smile.

"Weapons aren't the only thing in here," I said. I put on the pack filled with sleeping bags, some of them hanging off the side of it, and picked up a large container.

"Ouch," I said, involuntarily. My bruises had complained loudly of my exertion, stabbing me with pain in parts I was using to lift the far from insignificant weight. I put down the box again, and rubbed my shoulders.

"Are you alright?" Julie said, coming closer.

"Yeah, just battered a little from all that's happened," I said, "Your little stunt with Tam didn't help."

She looked somewhat troubled at that, though she need not have bothered. She was easy to forgive. Or maybe I just hadn't been in good company for months and was thinking with something other than my brain, which probably makes more sense. It's hard to tell, so many years later.

"I wish you had mentioned the map before, but I had to see it again," Julie admitted, smiling again. She closed in, stepping over the box on the ground, and put her arms over my shoulders slowly for faux-dramatic effect. It was far from a platonic embrace, all my senses feeling heavy as she whispered in my ear. Yeah, very easy to forgive, teasing or not.

"I'll make it up to you, when we're alone," she said, "It seems we keep getting interrupted... pervert guards, prison breaks, mages, interfering Qunari..." That last part was spoken with a great deal more mirth. I had noticed Julie looking at Tam in a less than platonic manner already.

"We're alone now," I pointed out helpfully, throwing in a grin with it.

"True."

Julie and I exchanged a look, and broke off. We dropped the bags to the cave floor. Began relieving ourselves of other obstacles. I fiddled the straps of my armour, and placed it down against the boxes. She unhooked her toolbelt. They fell to the ground with a thud and a clang, as we moved to be close again.

Her lips met mine softly at first. The feeling was electrifying, and I was intoxicated immediately. My heart began racing and my breaths more ragged with every second. My hands went to her hips as we kissed. We moved closer, her hands wandering, mine drawing her as close as possible. Beginning to explore each other a little with everything at our disposal. Julie found the buttons on my clothing, and began to undo them. My hands brushed across her stomach and went to her belt, starting to untangle the mechanism to undo her work clothes.

A groan erupted from below, a stomach crying hungry.

Just as suddenly as the fun had begun, it stopped. We remained entwined in other ways, the heat of the moment still there, but the focus on one another broken. I wish I could say that it wasn't my fault, but I was as hungry as anyone else. Perhaps more so, being so unused to hunger. I guess some needs come before others, though the one being sated was among the few keeping me sane in the wake of all the crazy.

"Perhaps we should eat," Julie said, sounding disappointed a little.

"I'm sure the others are wondering what we're doing too," I grumbled, the interruption jarring me like nails on a chalkboard. The urge to grind my teeth was damn near overwhelming.

Julie chuckled, as we parted fully. My calm restored itself, as she took my hands. "I'm sure they have an idea," she said. I suppose we had been giving off all the signals to that end. Not that Tam or Armen seemed to pay heed. Ever.

"Okay, back we go," I said, defeated.

"We will continue another time," said Julie heartily, "Look forward to it."

She flashed a quick grin at me, to which I could only return one of my own. Placated for the moment, we dressed ourselves fully again, shaking dirt off as we did so. I picked up the box, more carefully this time. It was damn heavy, but I balanced it across my back and held it with both hands, the backpack helping to spread both the weight and keep it in place.

Julie led the way, throwing her own pack over herself again and marching out into the sun again. She held her hand up to cover her eyes as she looked over at the others.

Both Tam and Armen were getting stuck into their meals without a care in the world, chewing away at the meat and gathering more from the cooking bags with forks. I snorted at the sight, their sizes disproportionate from one another and their talents at odds, yet they were seeming equally matched in capability and appetite. They didn't speak to each other, just ate quietly.

"By the way, what is in that box?" Julie asked, as we made our way across the grass to join the party.

"Books," I replied, "Just in case you can't get back to my world, you can still read about it."

Julie gave me a look like I had said something bizarre.

"You were transporting weapons and _books_?" she asked, as we stepped over the blankets, "That seems like a strange combination."

I set the box down to the side as we arrived at the camp fire.

"The books weren't meant to be with us," I said, "They were for the education and rebuilding effort to come later, after we had built up the militia and secured the town." An international school and college, to be exact. We had the enemy on the run by that stage, and things were returning to normal for much of the region we had been sent to.

"Books from another world?" Armen piped up, swallowing his latest bite, "How intriguing."

Intriguing indeed, given what they would lead to. Like I said, the weapons weren't the most dangerous thing I brought through, provided I could hide the technology they contained. Which was easy enough. The content of the books on the other hand, as well as the contents of my head, weren't so easily hidden, as I didn't rate them as worth hiding in the first place. Not sure I would have with the benefit of retrospect, either.

"It sounds like you were also Tamassran," said Tam, "A book and a gaatlok firelance are the same thing; a weapon." Which pretty much sums up my thoughts now. My reaction then was less agreeable.

"You can't kill thirty men or more in less than a minute with a book," I said, truthfully enough, "I know what I'd rather have if I was facing an enemy."

"Books contain ideas, and ideas can raise armies," Tam replied, "The Qun is proof of that. You could defeat a large number of people with your firelance, but you couldn't defeat an army."

I frowned, fairly sure I could defeat a feudal army single-handed if I hit the right people. I didn't lack for self-confidence in my ability to fight or read a battlefield. Particularly when the potential combatants were so unbelievably primitive. But my hunger was gnawing at my gut now, so I let the point slide and started preparing the meals.

* * *

We ate more or less in complete silence, not out of any animosity with each other but because of sheer ravenous need. The beef steak went down even better than the curried chicken had, being somewhat more filling, or feeling as much at any rate. The others very much enjoyed it, leaving the side snacks alone and simply laying down to digest the meal. I was nowhere near as full, probably because I was used to eating far more in a single sitting even in a combat zone, but I wasn't exactly jumping around either. I rather lazily sat about with the intention of cataloguing the books that had come through, hoping for something relatively useful. It was in fact a treasure trove, though I was only looking for one particular thing, a book that remains with me to this day and makes me feel better on the bad days.

There were books on every conceivable topic. Many of them unsurprisingly relevant to civil affairs, given that we were trying to rebuild several nations from the ground up. Aside from a note from the international school sponsoring the project, there was an inventory list and the sheer variety was enormous. From technical subjects like mathematics and chemistry, historical texts on Earth history and classical studies, western philosophical texts on life, politics and morality, a geography textbook and a marching band guide, through to Fraser's selected works on military matters from both Eastern and Western perspectives, which obviously weren't on the list. Scanning the names of the texts, I figured that if I wanted some heavy reading, there was no shortage of it. Not a single fiction among the selection, which annoyed me as I thought I would get bored eventually. However, the last entry caught my eye.

It was a picture book.

It is entitled " _Earth, the Human World_." A large, wide tome, it contains pictures of many places of my world, including many of my homeland. Cities, countryside, monuments, warzones, and peoples of many nations feature throughout. It was exactly what I was looking for. I rummaged through the box for it quickly, desperately. I found it at the very bottom.

Delighted, I called Tam and Julie over.

"I found a book with images of my world," I said, as they crawled over the blankets. The pair double timed it, and Armen stood up and walked around the the back. Soon, I had all three hovering above me, Julie on one shoulder, sitting cross-legged, Tam on the other, holding her legs, and Armen peeking over the top of my head, leaning on his staff. The announcement had the effect I had hoped for. I now had solid proof beyond some magic crap that I wasn't from Thedas, and I was very happy for it. I was unprepared for the effect it would have on me though.

I opened the book at the table of contents, and ran my finger down until I found the picture I was looking for. Where first looks at America goes, you have to go with the classic one, the first look that many of our ancestors saw first upon arrival. I still can't think of any more appropriate way to introduce a complete newcomer to my homeland, and I was actually quite excited to see what they'd think of it. I flicked through the corners of the pages to find the right one, and turned the book to a double-page spread.

It was the city of New York, a panorama picture with the city's buildings in the background, which are no small accomplishments of engineering in their own rights. But in the foreground, the massive Statue of Liberty stood, robbing the attention of the Thedosians. Many will be familiar with it now, but on the off chance that something catastrophic has happened since I have written this, which is bound to happen in the fullness of time; the statue is a monument of a crowned woman in a robe, bearing a torch and a book of laws. She is the personification of both freedom and my homeland.

"New York," I said, "The largest city in my country."

Julie and Tam grabbed the book from my hand and looked at it in shock, holding it between them in front of me. They clearly focused on the monument rather than the city itself.

"By Andraste... It's huge!" Julie exclaimed, "Those are people near the bottom!"

I nodded the confirmation, smiling widely.

"This is your Creator deity?" asked Tam, "The one from the prayer you said when we picked up the mage?"

"No, it's not the Creator, and that wasn't a prayer... This is the Statue of Liberty, but it's fair to say that we worship her as often as we do him," I said, "At least, back home we do. This says that there are no slaves or nobles, that everyone is free. There are others who feel different about how to run things elsewhere, of course. We tend to end up fighting them." In hindsight, an optimistic viewpoint... but one I still hold to.

"How did you make such a thing..." Julie said, "It would have taken years."

"It did, as far as I'm aware," I replied, "It was a joint project between an ally and us, as we are both countries ruled by their peoples. It used to be the first thing new arrivals would see of my country, before we invented flying machines."

"Are those buildings behind it, across the river?" Armen asked, pointing a finger.

"Buildings," I confirmed, "We call them skyscrapers, because they reach hundreds of feet into the sky."

Armen looked at the picture again with wide eyes.

"And people live in them?" he asked.

"No, they're used for commerce," I replied, "The smaller ones are where people live, mostly."

"Your country must have many people," the elf continued.

"Over three hundred million," I said, knowing it would seem absurd, "And that's not even a tenth of the population of the world." At the time I left, it wasn't even a twentieth. As for now, there could be as many as ten billion people worldwide, or everyone could be dead. We had weapons that could destroy a city or country easily, maybe they finally used them. I don't know. That's the thing about knowledge, it can destroy a civilisation as easily as it can build one, if people are stupid enough. I guess the elves know all about that, and you'd think others would learn by their example. Apparently not.

And so it went.

We flicked through more of the images of my world, and the others asked me questions. Julie mostly asked me about technology and structures, Tam about people or religions, and Armen about obscure details that others might have missed. I answered as best I could, not being an expert on everything. Some I just couldn't answer at all, particularly when the pictures moved away from countries in the West and onto areas where I had no real knowledge. Some of the captions helped there, but it wasn't much. Various warzones from a decade before were also pictured, and I was able to talk a lot more about them.

However, the more we looked, the more depressed I became. Thedas was not home, and there was always a doubt in the back of my mind about whether or not I would be able to return. I was not some vagrant with no ties or family when I was taken. It's not like I had kids or anything, but if I could not return, I had a lot to lose. Seeing pictures of Earth exacerbated the feeling of near-remorse greatly, and I am not proud to admit I was on the verge of utter despair by the time we finished.

I must have looked extremely sullen indeed, because we stopped a little early when Julie slammed the book shut, waking me up a little from my downward spiral.


	13. Discoveries II

The next incident during our stay at the crash-site was a magic-related one.

We had opted to relax for a while, as we had already decided to spend the night. If by some stroke of bad luck we had been pursued from Halamshiral, then we would throw off our pursuers by doing so. In the mean time, we could recuperate a little from the excitement of the previous night and morning.

We would eventually need to stop somewhere to get feed for the horse, and doing so at night didn't seem like the best idea to me despite the anonymity it might have given us. I preferred going in the day, when we simply looked like merchants on the road rather than people deliberately trying to sneak around anywhere.

So we split off to do whatever we wanted for a little while.

Tam went off into the forest to hunt, after I informed her of just how many of the rations were left and how long they'd likely last if we ate them for every meal. Dinner would be something a little more fresh, I suspected. I hadn't yet seen her archery in action, but given her proficiency with her dagger, I had no reason to doubt the Qunari's skills. Admittedly, I was more than a little worried that she'd run into a dragon, which prompted my own behaviour at this time.

Julie had decided to do something considerably more intellectual with her time. Using the documents with my fake name on it and some of the books as a reference point, she began translating the letters of the Latin alphabet, which my world mostly used, into those used by the Common and Orlesian languages. I helped her in this task by clarifying the sounds of certain letters, as I was sitting beside her the whole time.

To my surprise, she had a very workable grid for translating all of them after a couple of hours. Another hour later, and she was skimming the books from my world, focused on the subjects they covered and inquiring after them to me. If you think that being able to accomplish this task in a few short hours is unusual, you'd be right. It should have taken days or weeks. I was astonished at first, but the feat was child's play to someone like Julie.

Apart from helping our surprise linguist, I concentrated mostly on our defence. I was still in a bad mood, and there was nothing for it but to do something practical. I still didn't know what was beyond much of the brush surrounding us, or above the cliff face. With this in mind, I retrieved two of the weapons Fraser's squad had used. One was a precision firelance with a telescopic sight, designed to hit targets a mile or further away. I didn't have the training to use it at a huge distance, but I was fairly sure I could put one through the eye of a dragon if another showed up in the vicinity. The other weapon was Murphy's weapon. What we call a machinegun, a firelance designed to fire dozens or even hundreds of shots a minute in sequence.

It was pure paranoia on my part, but I wished to have something ready in case Goldie or someone like him showed up again. Some noble prick with plenty of lackeys could have overwhelmed me by sheer force of numbers, but not if I was armed with that. I spent my time between checking that all the weapons were in good working order, helping Julie, and watching Armen do strange things.

The elf was busy with the helicopter at first, muttering about the Fade and the like. I had assumed quite correctly from the tropes of my world's fiction that the Fade was a magical realm, but I had no idea of its nature and still don't due to my... condition. Regardless, Armen touched various parts of the helicopter and hummed to himself, like he was just having a stroll. Occasionally, he took out a small journal and scribbled something in it with a quill, using an inkpot that he levitated in mid-air with his freakin' mind or something.

It had only been half a day since I met him, but already I was getting jaded with the sheer number of abilities he had. His attention turned briefly to the graves, where he seemingly paid his respects and did something magical to determine Maker only knows what. He brooded for a few hours after that, before finally turning his attentions to me.

As I sat, watching Julie read, which I have to admit became a pastime of mine, the mage approached with no small amount of levity about him, swaggering as he did so.

"So, shall I heal those awful bruises?" he declared, wiggling his finger in the direction of my face, "How did you even get them?"

Truth be told, so much had happened that I had completely forgotten about those particular blemishes. My face must have made me look like a thug or something, not good for hiding ourselves later. Still, I felt a lot better at being reminded of the circumstances.

"Sorry again, my fault," said Julie, wincing as she took a look up from a book, " _Je peux vous récompenser pour ces blessures bientôt, oui_?"

"That sounds good," I said, getting her meaning, "But there's no need to say sorry. You thought I was hostile... and then we needed to convince Baldy."

"Baldy?" asked Armen.

"The prison chief," said Julie, "We needed to put on a show for him, to convince the bastard that we hated each other. It was part of the escape plan."

"What sort of show?" the elf said, "A boxing match?"

Julie and myself smiled at each other knowingly, but said nothing. Probably because the show was practice for something else entirely. Which we were both increasingly enthusiastic for. There is a cliché term for our situation that I won't mention at this juncture. We just understood each other like that. A common desire to rip the clothes off one another can create that effect, with certainty. Regardless, Armen got the hint quickly, being the sharp fellow that he is.

"Anyway... Do you want me to heal you or not?" he said.

"With magic? Sure, I'd like to see that," I said, putting down my weapon, "What do I do?"

"Just stay still, and I'll heal the injuries," he replied, kneeling beside me, "This is not my best spellwork, but it will work on a bruise easily."

His hand hovered beside me for a moment, before glowing with soft white-green light. I was reminded of the display I had seen before, and thought that if he could summon lightning, then his powers of healing were probably considerable as well no matter what he said. I let him work, as he moved it near the side of my face for a number of minutes. It felt slightly warm, but no more than what I would have if it had just been his hand. Finally, he closed his fist again, and frowned.

"That's not right..." the mage said, rubbing his chin.

"What, have you turned me into a frog?" I asked, tone dripping with sarcasm, "Or am I just green?"

Armen smirked briefly, before his face returned to one of worry. Which set me to worrying a little.

"No, the healing energies didn't work," he said, "At all."

"...And that means?" Julie asked, sitting down beside me herself to watch.

"I'm not sure," the mage replied, "May I try again?"

I didn't see any real reason to deny him. It was healing magic, not a thunderbolt, so I just gave him a quick nod and set my head still again. He opened his hand again, but this time, actually touched my face where Julie's fist had impacted it. I felt a tingling sensation that pins and needles could compare to but not quite. It didn't extend far beyond that, but that was more and more the thing that did not draw my attention.

Armen appeared to be in increasing distress as he continued to pour magical energy through his hand and onto me. He seemed to sway, and then almost fell straight over, his grip on his staff the only thing keeping him upright. The elf stopped what he was doing and rubbed his temples, sitting down properly to get his bearings. It seemed that nausea or something had overtaken him.

"Are you good?" I asked, "Take a moment... I don't really understand what happened, but you almost collapsed."

"You succeeded, at least," added Julie, the bruises are gone. She rubbed my cheek a little, to emphasize the point, and probably to tease me a little too. I put my hand over hers as she did so, and then pressed down a little to see if it hurt. It didn't; she was right, the elf had succeeded.

"I believe I did," Armen said, breathing heavily, "Ser Hunt, you have an impossibly high resistance to magic. I expected _something_ like this, because you had to travel through the Fade, but... it seems magic has no effect on you."

"What, so he's immune to your lightning?" asked Julie. Which was a question I really wanted the answer to myself, truth be told.

"Yes, any energy drawn directly to or from the Fade dissipates extremely quickly near you," he said, "Only direct physical contact allowed me to heal you, and it was taxing."

"So mages can't hurt me unless they get close enough to touch?" I said, rather pleased at the prospect. Anyone trying to get that close would feel my wrath long before they could.

"Not quite," Armen smiled weakly, "Trying to affect you directly won't work, but I could still burn your surroundings with fire. It is an advantage of course... but the real issue is healing. Undoing your injuries takes so much effort that I really don't recommend that you get hurt. Saving your life from a fatal injury might kill the mage attempting to do so."

So it was a tradeoff. One I could live with more or less happily. We discovered at various other times that there are ways of circumventing the problem, both for people wishing to kill me and for those trying to heal me, but for the most part, magic cannot affect me. Overall, I have to say that I was fairly pleased to hear it. Between the beam explosion at Halamshiral and Armen's own lightning bolt, being immune to a direct hit from that crap was very good news indeed. It strengthened my hand against the only foes I then feared, aside from dragons. It was an overly optimistic assessment.

"How is that even possible?" Julie asked.

"It's far too complex to explain, particularly to a non-mage," sighed Armen, "But essentially, in order to transport Sam to Thedas, something clothed him and most of the other travellers in a very powerful protection against the Fade. This couldn't be natural, or we would have heard about it before. Someone brought him here."

Just goes to show that the Circle's magical knowledge is far from complete. Though any Tevene mage could have told you that.

"I presume you don't mean the Maker?" said Julie, curious.

"I have no idea," replied Armen flatly, "It would be the first time I've heard of a deity bringing people from another world." He was sceptical of the idea to say the least.

"So you don't know who could pull this off?" I asked. Primarily motivated by the desire to shoot the culprit to pieces, and turn him into a fine pâté.

"I wouldn't think it was possible at all, even with blood magic, for any living mage," Armen said, "Either it was magic used on something specifically designed to do this, or someone out there has world-conquering power but is using it instead to punch holes in the world to bring through people from another. I'm not sure which is less crazy."

I asked what the Fade was at this point, which Armen explained in clear terms. Dreamworld, realm of gods, demons and spirits. Vacation spot for fadewalker mages, etc etc. Source of all mages' power, and source of their threat. I was sceptical about all of it, but most of all, I still couldn't believe in demons. There is a phrase in my world, "Absolute power corrupts absolutely." I imagined that the "demons" were simply mages driven mad and twisted by their own power. There were plenty of people, magical and otherwise, like that. But I was wrong.

"One more thing to think about, I suppose," I said at last, "I didn't know healing magic was a thing until just now, so I'm not really too worried about it." You know, unless I fell down and broke my damn leg by accident or something. I figured that would be just my luck.

"Try not to get injured then," said Julie, the primary suspect in case of the majority of my injuries. I laughed at her assertion, my amusement hollow. She just hugged me with a smile, knowing it would wind me up further. But I let her do it, as it cheered me up.

A loud, flat thud erupted to my left. I winced with surprise, despite already knowing who and what it was. Tam had returned, a sense of gleeful triumph around her. She was not empty handed either. She had shot three small deer-like creatures, their coats a glistening white in the sun. They had rather impressive antlers in a twisted shape, and I couldn't help but compare them to Tam's own small horns. I frowned to myself, thinking that is was cannibalism of a sort for her to eat such a creature. Which was rather rude of me.

"What did I miss?" Tam said as we stared, oblivious to the startling progress we had made in figuring it all out.

 


	14. Inquiries I

Taking the time to explain what we had found out took a long time, and was more than a little risky.

Tam, being herself, did not take our word entirely for anything we said. Or maybe she just wanted to participate. At any rate, Julie was forced to read out some of the captions from the picture book to prove she could understand the Latin alphabet. After each reading, our Qunari companion would turn to me for confirmation, and I would give it. I can't deny that I enjoyed sitting and watching it. They proceeded through about half the book before everyone was satisfied. It was strangely comforting, seeing someone read something that I myself could. Made me feel a little less homesick.

The next thing was less pleasant. Tam demanded that Armen shoot some lightning at me to prove the concept that I was near-entirely resistant to magic. So I found myself stood up against the cliff, as if a man facing a firing squad, while the mage stood twenty or thirty yards away. Sure enough, when his staff spun a web of lightning at me, the electricity had no effect. It didn't even touch my body or equipment, in fact. With the demonstration over, Tam accepted it after a moment. She came over and pinched me a little, as if trying to make sure the lightning didn't have some internal effect. Getting too close as usual in the process. I got the impression it was a little more than scientific concern.

With those matters settled, the Qunari soon got to skinning her kills without fanfare. The others went off to find more firewood, as we had enough to warm ourselves but nowhere near enough to cook something the size of a deer. I was somewhat fearful that Julie would run into trouble out there, even with Armen, as fists against dragonlings wouldn't really cut it. I really need not have bothered myself. Regardless, I got on with the task of preparing our little camp for the night with some trepidation.

* * *

Dinner was extremely eventful indeed.

First of all, I managed to get the electrical machinery and lights working, so we had no reason to fear the sun setting. The principle is exactly the same as my flashlight but on a larger scale, so the flickering orange flames of the cooking fire were joined by the white beams associated with the alchemy of my world. I was very pleased with my handiwork. Any animal that wandered across our path would have been scared off by the unnatural luminescence, and any people that came along would hopefully think we were extremely powerful mages and take the better part of valour. The batteries wouldn't last forever, but I didn't plan on sticking around. My other companions took the new technology in their stride. Two had already seen something similar, and Armen was Armen, an elf far more inclined towards curiosity than surprise when encountering a new phenomenon. Most of the other functions, like radio communication, were down.

Tam grilled the animals, which all the others agreed were called halla. The Qunari hummed happily as she did so, catching some of the juices in a bowl as they dripped off and turning the meat on a wooden spit that she had fashioned. Watching her do this was an utterly surreal experience. It reminded me of my mother, whom also liked to hum when she cooked. Though she wasn't over six feet high, muscular or curvy..

I had previously pegged Tam squarely as some sort of assassin. After all, her bow and dagger were at her side at all times, and she was no amateur at using them. Not to mention her nation's obvious need for such people. But at that moment, she sang to herself and attended to the food, and I doubted my assessment. Julie seemed surprised that the Qunari sang at all, and inquired what song it was. Tam replied simply that "it was a cooking song." Nothing is used frivolously under the Qun, not even music, apparently.

Julie had found a book to read, and stuck to it as she sat in my seat in the helicopter. I didn't see which one she had selected at the time, but I guarantee that given the questions she would ask later, it was the work of Rousseau or Thomas Paine. Heavy stuff in more ways than just difficulty of reading. For the moment however, she interchanged her attention between the pages and the sky, mumbling words to herself like she was trying to figure something out. A couple of times an hour, she consulted a history book. She seemed very happy, so I was quite content to leave her to it.

As we neared the time to eat, I called Armen over to help me with the sleeping bags. The scratchy, thin blankets we had stolen from the prison seemed extremely inadequate for anything other than covering the ground. We had more than half a dozen of the sleeping bags from my world, which were extremely comfortable and could even double as a hammock with the right fiddling. Armen and I took two a piece, and began laying them out. Wherein we found another, more pleasant surprise.

The rolled up bags had things stuck into the middle of them. An assortment of gifts from the gods. I had missed them entirely, not thinking to look there when I had searched for useful things days earlier.

"What is all this?" asked Armen, as he unrolled one himself, "Is this alcohol?"

"It most certainly is!" I declared, snatching up a bottle, "Not bad stuff either. Fraser must be in hell though... a Scot drinking Tennessee whiskey? No way he's in paradise." I unscrewed the top on the container of warm orange liquid and smelt it, recoiling from the familiar aroma with a laugh. It was a good thing I hadn't discovered the booze before my capture by Goldie, or I would have drank myself to death. I certainly wouldn't have been coherent enough to give a false identity and probably would have ended up with several swords through my face. No matter, I intended to thoroughly enjoy myself.

Armen held up a drink himself, a clear liquid in a fogged glass bottle.

"If that is whiskey, what is this?" he asked, attempting to open the top himself.

"The water of life; Vodka," I said, "Unfortunately, that particular brand is French."

"French?" inquired the elf, smiling now, "Is that a bad thing?"

"You would call it Orlesian," I replied, "And for vodka, yes, it is bad. Wine or cognac, it's a different story."

"Intriguing," Armen muttered. He poured himself a small measure into a metal cup, and in proper form, drank it back in a single gulp. I was surprised at his enthusiasm, but it sent him coughing and my fine self laughing loudly. He held his drink well though, and poured himself another measure with a grin.

There were several large bottles of pretty hard liquor wrapped up in the other sleeping bags, along with other leisure items, which will become obvious soon enough. I passed my own cup over to Armen to fill, and we knocked them together before downing the vodka. The alcohol burned my mouth, throat and stomach, but I felt immensely uplifted for it.

"Why were the bottles wrapped up in sleeping bags?" Armen asked, as he poured our next round. He held the cup out to me, and I took it, determined to drink this one a little more slowly.

"The religion of the country we were in prohibited alcohol," I explained, "But soldiers always find a way."

"A strange rule," Tam said from behind me, "May I?"

I tapped my hand on the sleeping bag beside, and Tam lay down on it. I handed her my drink, and she copied Armen's glorious example, gulping it down at once. She exhaled sharply as she put the empty vessel down, and blinked rapidly for a second. I was very curious as to her verdict.

"Strong, tastes bad, but is easy to drink," she said finally, eyeing her cup, "Why would anyone make such a drink?"

"To get drunk, of course," I said, "Besides, most people mix it with fruit juice or sodas." Though you wouldn't catch me doing that to anything of the quality we had on hand that night. In fact, doing so in front of me would have earned a rebuke.

"How is being drunk a useful thing?" asked Tam, innocently enough. I was completely exasperated by the question, to be honest, unable to even begin to answer it. I couldn't tell if she was pulling my leg or if she was actually serious. I still don't know, having seen a Qunari Ben-Hassrath drink like a fish and others remain entirely teetotal. Their rules are confusing, and I am not about to ask them a question on the subject. I was so caught up in the question that I had failed to hear the tapping of boots on the metal ramp nearby.

"Because it's fun," interrupted Julie, stomping down to join the fun, "You ignore the little details and do what you feel." She sat down close beside, and elbowed me to move over on the sleeping bag. I elbowed her back, then complied. The urge to do a lot more than that swept over me, but I thought better of it. Thankfully.

"And then you throw up," Armen chimed in, taking another sup of vodka.

"Hey, ease up," I said, "We should eat before drinking anymore."

"Not a bad idea," said Julie, supporting me, "Speaking of which, is dinner ready?" She turned a ravenous look at Tam.

The Qunari smiled, not with the daggers-at-dawn one but with a smaller, softer counterpart. Like someone trying to quiet a funny request from a child. It was at once both strange and amusing to see. Tam got up and went back to the fire, as the hungry one got comfortable, happy and unaware of the comparison that had been made in subtle terms.

Julie nudged me, and nodded at the cup. I picked it up and put a shot's worth into it, before handing it to her. I watched closely, as she brought the drink to her lips and swallowed it down. She seemed unaffected by it, licking her lips and then glancing at me. I tilted my head, all respect to her. She could handle her drink too, evidently.

"Good?" I asked.

"Very," she replied, "Though I'll definitely need to eat before having more."

I laughed, and nodded. I already felt the warmth in my veins from what I had drank thus far, any more and I would have been nicely sloshed. Another new experience, getting tipsy on another world. More likely, another universe. Going where no man has gone before, or so I thought. One small sip for a man, one giant chug for humankind. At that moment, such heavy thoughts were nowhere in my head, pushed aside by catching glances at Julie as she did the same to me. Damn it, now I feel old. On with the story.

Tam's cooking turned out to be excellent, though given the care she had taken with it, I had expected as much. The halla 'venison' was stringy and tough, but positively bursting with flavour. Far better than the meat from the rations too. It was not like deer from Earth in terms of the taste, it was more like pork. Needless to say, it became one of my favourite treats. Which put me in trouble once or twice, as going out and shooting a halla is actually laden with troubles to the uninitiated. Just not to Tam.

As with lunch, the others were very full at the end. They lay on their sleeping bags, having moved the secreted contents inside onto the blankets. I was full too, though much more mobile than the others, as I had finally eaten an amount people from back home would recognise as a full meal. So we sat about, drinking. Not very productive, I know, but three of us were celebrating our freedom, so stick your objections where the sun doesn't shine. As we lay about, I dragged the new discoveries over to me and sorted through them. Eleven bottles of liquor were among the most welcome additions to my seemingly endless array of otherworld items. Other things attracted the attention of Tam, however.

The Qunari raked through the random mix, before picking up a chain of colourful wrappers. I almost lost myself immediately from the shock. Apparently someone in Fraser's squad thought he was a real ladies' man, as there was no way one person should have had that many. Tam was now inspecting them with a raised eyebrow. I quickly looked away, having no desire to answer the inevitable question or deal with the outcome if she decided to open one of the wrappers. It's not that I was squeamish about the subject, it's just that explaining the concept would require a few more drinks than I had downed at this point.

"What are these?" Tam asked, shaking the plastic in the air.

The others turned to look, wondering for themselves, as I concentrated on a stone in the opposite direction. I am sure I must have looked like I was having a seizure, trying to suppress my laughing as best I could.

"Rip one open and see," suggested Armen suddenly. I froze dead, before turning around.

"Wait, don't!" I shouted, holding out my hand, "Give it here." The aftermath would have been unpleasant. Couldn't have us smelling like the contents until we found another river or something.

I was just in time. Tam held the first wrapper in her hands, ready to tear it. She took her hand away, and I took the whole chain of the things from her. Unfortunately, this meant that suspicion and curiosity now shifted to me instead, and the question of why I would ask this way was written on all of the faces present. The fucking huge grin on my face probably didn't help matters. I geared myself for it to be spoken.

"So, what are they?" Julie asked, narrowing her eyes, "They must be dangerous, if you're reacting like that." Yes, extremely dangerous in ways you can't imagine, I thought. That wasn't really true though, I just didn't know if the concept would get me burned under the religious rules of where I was at the time. As I couldn't think of any other way to put it, I just came out and said it.

"They're for sex," I said bluntly. The others drew back a little in surprise.

"Really?" asked Armen, his eyebrow disappearing upwards into the black mop of his hair. I swear, it migrated for a moment. The reaction of the others was slightly less reserved.

"What do you mean?" Julie said, confused, "How do they help?" Understandable, given that the things weren't actually unravelled yet.

"Show us!" said Tam pointing, clearly regretting that she had handed them over to me now.

I groaned. Explaining the purpose and function of a contraceptive was not how I thought I'd be spending the aftermath of dinner. I grabbed the bottle of vodka, and began pouring myself a cup. The others held out their own, shaking them to get my attention. I complied, and soon, they were all sipping at the stuff. I prepared myself, taking a drink, and answered.

"They stop people getting pregnant," I said quickly, "Or spreading disease. Most of the time."

The others stared at the wrappers, seemingly intrigued. Julie and Tam glanced at each other, eyes widened a little. Considering that men don't have to give birth, I have discovered that the great majority of interest in such things over the years has come from women. My expectations were defied on that count.

Sexual revolution was not on my agenda, I assure you. Though I have no doubt, given what has happened, that the Chantry would gladly dig up my bones and dump them into the Waking Sea. Hopefully they'll be well hidden from the zealot faction. I felt the conversation tedious at the time, not thinking of the potential effects in the slightest. I think I can safely saying that I prefer doing to talking anyway, where this subject is concerned. Talking usually comes with too much nonsense and superstition.

Armen was the first to respond.

"If your world has no magic, such things would be necessary," he thought aloud, "In the Circles, magic was developed long ago to prevent... that from happening." Of course that would be the first thought that came to him. The Circles were utterly barbaric to a fault, in my opinion, not least because of their wanton destruction of families. It turns out that most didn't even try and start families, for fear of them being torn apart by the rules. I had a small inkling of it from my first meeting with Armen, but the full extent of that destruction was only revealed to me later.

"How do they work?" Julie asked, just when I was mid-drink.

I spluttered, coughing my vodka back up. My eyes watered, as I struggled for breath. The drink had gone down the wrong way. What a question.

As I recovered, I wanted to explain, but it seemed embarrassing beyond belief. Somewhat like trying to explain the facts of life to a child who is really too young to understand. Considering Julie was a grown woman only a few years younger than me at most, this was probably an insulting attitude to take, but the thought occurred to me that simply explaining wouldn't suffice. Especially for her. So I did the next best thing.

I ripped one of the wrappers off from the others, and threw it to Tam.

"Open it from the edge," I said, "Carefully, it's not dry."

The Qunari opened it, ripping the cover off, and revealed the contents. Unperturbed by the liquid coating it, she unravelled the item. The look of confusion on her face was priceless as she held it up. The shape was... unmistakeable.

"It looks like a..." Tam began.

"Yes, it does," I interrupted.

"Ah, so it must go on your..." Julie added, sounding like she was having a eureka moment.

"YES," I said loudly over her, "That's exactly where it goes."

A lot of humming and hawing superseded any further conversation on the subject. I threw Tam a cleaning cloth from a ration pack, and polished off the last of my drink. At least they weren't asking for a more practical demonstration. Evidently, there were no virgins in the group, thank the gods. We didn't have any bananas on hand anyway. Still don't know if they exist here, actually.

Cringeworthy stuff.

"Your world is a strange place," declared Armen, after due consideration.

"Trust me, it's yours that is strange," I replied, tempted to grant him a backhand across the face.

* * *

After dinner, we dug through the other items that had been hidden again.

Among them was a music player, a device capable of remembering thousands of songs and playing them back at command. Somewhat like a record player, but far more complicated. Putting aside how it works, as this is not a technical manual, I managed to get it hooked up to some equipment in the helicopter. There was more than enough power for it to work. The music played loudly, as if we were in a tavern. I bet tavern players everywhere curse my name in private, even the ones who sing songs about what they think is my life. Technology often pushes some people out of work, though I always found live music to be superior.

So I watched my first sunset in Thedas to the sounds of Earth.

Don McLean's _American Pie_ , to be exact. I was surprised to find the song was on the player, most of them were unfamiliar to me. Thankfully there were also plenty of others that weren't. I should have seen other sunsets before this, but had spent them trussed up first in a covered wagon and then in a prison instead. So I was quite pleased with myself to say the least. I was convinced I would be going home soon, and that I had made good progress towards that end. Magic be damned.

The reaction of my companions to this was not speechless amazement, funnily enough. They had become as jaded to revelations about my world as I had to the same of theirs. Or maybe it was just the freeflowing alcohol. We'll never know.

"What is this song about?" said Julie, leaning on me as the song continued into its second chorus.

"I have no idea," I replied.

"The music of your country is very complex," said Tam, "What purpose does it have?"

"Purpose?" I said, not taking her meaning fully, "We use it to relax, mostly. Sometimes tell stories. You don't have music where you're from?"

"Under the Qun, music is played and songs sung to encourage people during practical activities," Tam replied, "So, when soldiers march, they'll sing a marching song or a band will play one. Communal cooks will sing a cooking song together. Farmers ploughing a field will sing a field song. We determined long ago that such a thing helps people work harder and feel better about doing it."

I couldn't argue with that. The evaluation was dead right. Music could make you work harder. Though I thought it a bit stale for an entire society to enjoy it only as accompaniment to hard slogging. Which brought me to a question.

"Do your people not relax?" I asked, "You know, use time off work for their own leisure."

"They rest," confirmed Tam, "But there is no time for leisure. People might starve, or be attacked, or stray from the Qun, and such things require wasting resources that the Qunari aren't pleased to waste."

"Soul-crushing," Julie replied, punctuating her sentence with a swig, "How does anyone stand it?"

"Most are born into it," said Tam softly, "The converts are mostly freed slaves looking for any way out of their misery, so they accept it with open arms. The rest face being turned into a mindless drone by the elder tamassrans, becoming mentally incapable of rebellion or independent thought."

"That sounds fucking horrible," I said, my blood getting up a little, "Unspeakably evil."

"I agree," Tam replied. She drank from her cup, and did not elaborate on it. Which frustrated me a little. She seemed to be remembering something, staring at the fire as it flickered and burned.

An idea occurred to me. I didn't know very much at all about the background of the people I was travelling with. I knew they were good people at the very least, my instincts being razor sharp with regard to that. But that wasn't really enough. I had to know more.

 


	15. Inquiries II

How best to get them talking about themselves was a moment of genius on my part. One that continues today as a national tradition, to my immense pride. There's even a book of etiquette for it, though who knows who wrote it. I often suspect it was Armen's work, as he was always scribbling something anonymously. It would be hilarious if true.

"I really don't know enough about any of you," I said, "We have good music, drink, some free time. Let's play a game, to get to know each other a little better."

"Sounds good to me," Julie said, with a stretch which I enjoyed thoroughly.

Tam remained silent, but didn't object either. To be honest, I thought that she would, so I was pleasantly surprised. But she wasn't the person I thought would believe it to be a bad idea.

"We don't know anything about you either," said Armen, "Why should I let you interrogate me?" The elf had secrets, no doubt, but it wasn't my intention to pry into them. Too much. I had a plan for just such an objection.

"Aha, I thought you'd say that," I said with a smile, "So we'll do it like this. One of us will take questions from the others. He or she can either answer them, or drink. Anyone who asks a question out of turn that isn't directly about the main question, also drinks. That way, I get to learn what not to ask as well as getting to know you. When all of the others have asked their question, then another gets asked. How about it?"

Armen tilted his head back, watching the sky as he thought. He mumbled to himself. I nudged Julie, and indicated with my head. I wanted her support. She got the picture.

"Ah, go on Armen, it'll be fun," she said, her Orlesian tones raised in jest, "You don't have to say anything you don't want to!"

I thought it would help to have someone other than the crazy guy from another world encourage him, but it was to no avail. Armen continued what he was doing, working out something in his head that his lips were only half playing out. I was ready to give up, when Tam spoke.

"Though I personally think he should be questioned as to his intentions," said Tam, "Intimately."

I winced in horror. Tam's distrust of mages was nothing to be trifled with. I feared it was equivalent to the same sort of crap that Armen had to put up with under the Circle. It was, in fact, but that wasn't what he focused on as he returned his gaze to us.

"I'll gladly be intimate with you, if you're gentle!" Armen laughed, "You're a looker, it's undeniable, but I'm not _that_ robust." It was Tam's turn to wince, as the elf chuckled at her discomfort. Hey, you didn't get my memo from before. She is deadly with a dagger. Extremely deadly. I really did wonder if the man was sane. Julie laughed with him, not noticing the Qunari's annoyed expression.

"I hope your good mood means that you'll be participating," I said, stepping in to prevent bloodshed.

"On one condition," Armen replied, "You're going first."

"Done," I said without hesitation, "Here, fill up your drinks."

I held the bottle out and doled out a very generous amount to each of them. I also turned off the music to save power, not knowing if I'd ever be able to recharge the batteries and wanting to keep the lights on as long as possible. I held back on refilling my own cup for the moment, as I had no intention of withholding an answer. Otherwise, I might be too drunk to ask the questions I wanted answers to myself. Besides, I felt I could trust the others not to go yapping about my secrets.

"Okay, so who has the first question?" I asked.

Tam held up her hand. I nodded, knowing she had hers already picked out.

"You say you are not a soldier, but you have weapons and you carry yourself like a warrior," she said, "What are you if not a soldier?"

I had to think about the answer for a minute, as some terms might not be familiar to the audience. And the job was fairly ambiguous in its own right.

"I'm a peacekeeper," I said, "Soldiers fight for countries, peacekeepers serve both their countries and the United Nations, my world's community of nations. We enforce truces and peace agreements, enforce the laws of war, and defend common folk in warzones. Peacekeepers are soldiers, but we're also … nightwatchmen, builders, teachers, smiths, administrators. We take care of everything a country should do, when one can't anymore because of war. The damage wars cause can last for decades, so something has to be done about it. "

"But you still fight?" asked Armen.

"We have very strict rules on when we're allowed to fight," I replied, not mentioning that the rules often put us in harm's way unnecessarily, "But yes, we do face combat."

"So you're like a Grey Warden?" asked Julie, "Defending people from the worst things?"

"I guess so," I said, not sure what a Grey Warden was, "There is no magic in my world, not like here anyway, so the worst you have to fear is some nutjob terrorist wanting to kill you because you believe something different or because you come from somewhere else." As opposed to demons and other assorted shitheads.

"Sounds like a difficult job," Armen said.

"It is, but someone has to do it or else civilisation crumbles," I replied, not wanting to get into too much detail, "You want to ask the next question?"

"Mine is related to the one that has already been asked," Armen said, diving right in, "I don't understand your reasons for not allowing me to bring the knowledge about your weapons back to the rebellion. You said our cause was just and its your job to help people in a war, but you won't help us. Why?"

I sighed loudly. I was unprepared for that question. And I knew that answer would inevitably make me sound like a condescending prick. Still, the mage deserved a response, so I gave him one.

"Short answer is that I don't give you the guns because it would get a whole load of people killed that didn't need to be," I said.

"The Templars imprisoned us for centuries," he said, "Are we not entitled to defend ourselves?"

"That's not the problem," I said, "I presume when your armies fight, you line up nice and neat, then charge at each other after shooting arrows and magic, right? Maybe your nobles duel it out sometimes?"

"Yes, most armies fight like that," answered Tam, "Though only the Qunari maintain discipline for long enough to keep in line for battle."

"Right, so imagine armies lining up, except now one side have weapons like mine," I said, "It would be a slaughter. Survivors would go and try to figure out the weapons, and eventually, you'd have two or more factions with them. More slaughter. Entire wars would be fought on the basis of dumb ass nobles thinking they had a great advantage. Yet more slaughter. That's what happened in my world."

I took a breath. I was losing my cool.

"All the while, no one has any idea about how to use tactics worthy of the name, maximising the number of casualties in combat. I doubt that medicine or logistics are worth shit here either, so people will die of injuries and hunger they could avoided too. Bottom line, your societies and militaries are too primitive to hand weapons over like they're toys. I would be committing a crime if I gave them over."

I finished my rant, and drank deeply from my cup. The question pissed me off a little.

"He has a point about the weapons," Tam said, "The Qunari invaded the mainland of Thedas not only because we felt we were duty bound to spread the Qun, but also because our gaatlok devices were so much more powerful. If Tevinter or Orlais had the knowledge, it would lead to more wars. They'd try to conquer their neighbours."

Armen looked unhappy, which made me feel a little guilty. He wasn't wrong about his people being downtrodden. I would have done almost anything to help him out. But arming the mages would be starting a global arms race was step one to a world war I wanted no part in. I determined to do my utmost otherwise.

"I'm sorry for asking," said the mage.

"Listen, when we get settled, we'll figure something else out," I replied, "There has to be other ways I can help other than fighting the war for you. I promise I will do _something_ that will save some of your people." By which I meant I would put in a report to my superiors, maybe take some refugees with me.

He perked up a little at the promise though. "I hope so," he said.

I felt we needed a breath of air before continuing. The fire was beginning to die, so I got up. I stumbled a bit, buzzing off the alcohol, I managed to get away clean to dump more wood onto the embers for Armen to ignite.

I sat down again, poured another round, and turned to Julie. It was her turn.

"Right, my turn," she said, as if to confirm it, "Do you have any family and friends back home that are missing you?"

"Good question," I smiled, "I have my parents, obviously. They should be both still alive. They have probably been told that I'm missing by now, so I hope they're not doing too badly. They always knew it was a risk, with my job. Apart from them, I have an older brother and sister, and six nephews and nieces."

"Do they do what you do?" Julie asked.

"God, no. My brother, Kevin, he's a banker. Very boring job in my opinion, but a lot of money in it. Which is probably how he can afford to have five kids. He got married young... well, young for our country, anyway." I had assumed correctly that people got married a lot younger in Thedas. Which is less true than it was, but still. I continued.

"As for my sister, Catherine, she's a merchant of sorts. Sells devices that turn sunlight and heat into electricity to power convenient things like the lights we have here or water-heating devices. Her daughter is called Sam too, so obviously that's my favourite niece." Little Sam was the most feisty out of the lot, which only added to my affection for her. I, obviously, am Big Sam. My companions seem entrapped by my story, for their own reasons that I couldn't fathom.

Thinking about it now as I write, I wonder how my siblings and their children are doing. It's been so long, that my siblings are probably grandparents or great-grandparents by now. I'm sure that if Earth didn't tear itself apart with wars, that they're doing fine in their own way. My parents are of course certainly dead. Of course, back then, I thought I would be seeing them within weeks or months, tops. Which made the next question hit hard.

"Aren't you afraid that you won't see them again?" Armen asked, "This doesn't count as another question, by the way."

I rolled my eyes. "Yes it does. Drink!" I said, "As for the answer, we don't leave people behind in warzones. They'll figure out what happened. I am sure someone will come for me." I wasn't sure at all, but a helicopter simply dropping off the face of the Earth without a trace didn't happen much. At least, not when flying over land. Armen drank his cup dry, and I handed him the bottle to refill it. Rules are rules.

"Do you not have children of your own?" Tam asked, "You seem healthy, capable, but you're older than the age when most start breeding." Breeding, she said. What am I, a horse?

"Hey, I'm still in my twenties!" Just barely, at that point. Thirty was approaching rapidly by the month, less than half a year away. Plenty of time left for child-making, at least to an Earthling. Not so much to a Thedosian of that era, or so I supposed. In truth, not everyone could afford the help of mages with dealing with the inevitable.

"Most commoners start having children when they're fifteen or sixteen, give or take," Armen explained, "Without the intervention of magical healing, most die before reaching their fifth year too."

"Maker forbid you don't take the first offer of marriage thrown at you either," Julie threw in, before drinking deeply, "The men start thinking you're mistress material, and the women think you're a whore."

"Orlais," muttered Tam, "How does it survive..."

I wasn't touching that conversation with a barge pole.

"No, I don't have children," I replied at last, over the next response from Armen, "We have children later because our lives are longer. We don't rely on magic to heal us or cure disease. We have medicine instead, created by science."

"Do you know anything about these medicines?" Armen asked.

"Not a clue," I replied, "Don't think any of the books have anything about them either." Which didn't turn out to be a great burden, as the scientific method did come through. I half-remember a metaphor, something about teaching fishermen, but I forget the details now. Either way, it was probably easier to do what we did, than to try and copy pharmaceutical knowledge from my world.

My turn came to an end, and we decided to go to the person to the right. So it was Julie's turn to answer or drink.

I had to go first, because I had a burning question in my head about something, much like how Tam had one for me. Well, I had several burning questions in actuality, but most of them weren't suitable for a public questionnaire, far more properly asked in the bedchamber. Of the seven deadly sins, Lust is definitely on my list. Good thing I'm immune to Fade crap, or I would have fallen to a desire demon long ago. I asked Julie as she leaned her head on my shoulder, listening with interest.

"What do you do for a living?" I asked.

"You don't know?" she replied in surprise, "I thought you would have guessed by now."

"That's not an answer," I replied coyly, tapping the top of her cup lightly as a warning of what would come. She swatted away my hand, and drank a little, taking her punishment for violating the law of the campfire.

"I'm surprised you asked as well," Tam added, "Isn't it obvious?"

Beginning to get a feeling that I was out of some loop, I looked at Armen and raised my eyebrows. He shook his head and shrugged, seemingly as clueless as I was. I had thought the mage would know more, but apparently being locked in a tower for most of your life doesn't give you much insight into the working person.

Julie stood up, wobbling a little from the drink, and raised her cup in mock salutation.

"I, good ser, am a blacksmith!" she declared proudly, before downing the rest of her drink. Eyes turned to me for a reaction, but mine kept on hers. I couldn't make out what she was thinking.

I knew she was a tradesperson of some kind. Her hands were not as rough as mine but not soft, she had a toolbelt, and she seemed to be well-fed compared to what I thought of as a peasant. Far better teeth too. I remembered the dirt that was on her face originally, when we had first met. It was actually soot, not mud.

"Ahhh," I said in realisation of the latter fact, "That explains a lot."

Julie plonked down beside me, landing on her backside and poking a finger at me.

"What does that mean?" she said sweetly.

"It means I knew you weren't a noblewoman," I replied, "Despite your obvious grace and wit." Laying it on with a trowel now to avoid offence, I was.

"Is that a problem?" she replied, in mock-outrage.

"Not even slightly," I said with a smile.

Julie paused and watched me for a moment, deciding if I was being serious. I tried to keep a straight face, but failed. As I had realised that her surname translated as "hammer" in Orlesian. I found that pretty funny. The woman herself seemed fine with it.

"Aww, you pass," she said. She straightened up and gave me a kiss on the cheek. I breathed a sigh of relief, pleased I had avoided her ire. With a grin, I returned my attention to the others.

"Good," I said, "Who's next?"

"I believe I am," Armen said, "Madamoiselle Marteau, do you agree with the Chantry on mages?" Jesus, the elf could be a hardass sometimes. He softened up over the course of our association, but at this point, he was still on-mission.

Julie locked her eyes on him. Her contempt for the inquiry was obvious. She was and is Andrastian to her core, albeit in a way people in my world would call a Protestant. However, she thought better of making hostility over the issue. She could understand Armen's position. So, rather than punch the fellow, which I'm sure she considered, she smiled. She refilled her cup, and downed it. The question was refused. We would have to wait until later to see what her opinion on the Rebellion was.

"I guess that answers that," I said.

"She had the right," Armen said, "I'm glad to see that it can be exercised."

I nodded. "Tam, your turn."

The Qunari frowned for a moment. She hadn't prepared a question for Julie. Her eyes went to me, not searching for a suggestion but considering something. Her head swivelled to Armen for a split second too, before her thoughts coalesced into an idea.

"Hunt and the mage can fight, that much is obvious. One has firelances and looks like he could swing a sword, the other has magic," Tam said, "You look like you could fight too, but can you?"

Count on the Qunari to consider the practicals. She seemed to be following me because I was strong, or my country was. It made sense that she'd wonder about her other travelling companions. I could not in fact swing a sword, however. Not part of my training to say the least.

Julie snorted her amusement at the Qunari's doubts.

"I live outside the walls. Have to. Blacksmith, remember?" she said, "Of course I can fight."

"What's your preferred weapon?" asked Tam.

"Warhammer," replied Julie without hesitation, "Never really used a bow, but I can swing metal around easily enough. Always have to fight off wildlife, and bandits on occasion, until the guard arrive." I chuckled at that. Because of her surname.

Tam nodded in response, satisfied at the answer. To be honest, I found it very easy to imagine Julie hefting a sledgehammer into some poor idiot voyeur as she bathed in a river. Shows my state of mind, I guess. Of course, the image I had in my head was all wrong. She had armour too, which I would see in due course, and I doubt she would have worn it to bathe.

"We'll have to find you one for the road," Armen said, "We have another two days to go."

"Yeah, about that," Julie replied, "If we're going to take all of Sam's weapons, it'll be more like a week before we get there. One horse pulling all that weight..."

I hadn't considered that. I was too used to the vehicles of my own world to do so in the first place. A week on the road opened up new dangers, including a higher risk of being caught by the authorities. Then again, I had my weapons. I could just lay waste to any mask-wearer who got in my way. Not the most subtle solution, but Orlais' big words about subtlety are exaggerated in the first place.

"You have more weapons?" Tam asked me. Before drinking, obeying the rules of the game. Like I said, it's catchy.

"Yeah, a whole cave full of them," I replied, "Along with some armour, explosives, helmets, and plenty of ammunition. I could storm that big palace back in Halamshiral single-handed if I needed to." I probably shouldn't have told them that. But I was drunk.

"Can we see them?" asked Armen, smiling.

"Sure, don't see why not," I said, "In the morning though."

"I'll hold you to it," the mage replied, saluting me with his cup.

"Your turn, mage," Tam said, her smile turning to its murderous streak as she pointed at him.

"What do you want to ask?" he said, returning the gesture.

"Your life as a mage seems soft by comparison to what your kind suffer under the Qun," she asked, "I'd like to know more."

Armen inclined his head, agreeing to the request. I thought he would blast her with lightning for asking such a thing. People rarely like to be reminded of their hardships, former or otherwise. The elf was a level-headed sort, so he just drank and set down his cup, ready to speak.

"If you're born a mage, you're taken to a Circle of Magi when you're still a child. If you're a noble, you lose all titles and land claims, but nobles and commoners are separated from their families regardless of rank," he began.

"It's the same under the Qun," Tam muttered in interruption, "What happens then?"

"The children are raised as part of the Circle. What Julie said by the river is right, they are educated and taken care of. We don't starve in the towers, usually. Sometimes the Templars wouldn't feed us as a punishment. When the children are old enough, their blood is taken so that they can be tracked at all times and they undergo a test to see if they can be possessed by a demon. If they fail, they are made Tranquil, robbed of all emotion by force."

"How?" I asked, "How do they take that from a person?" I was not inquiring as to the method, but Armen took it as such.

"It involves a lyrium brand, but as with many things, it is extremely difficult to explain to a non-mage," he replied, "Especially to someone from a world without magic."

I conceded the point, as Tam shifted her weight.

"I was right, you did have a soft life," she said, "Our saarebas are chained and lashed, watched by specially trained soldiers at every moment, their tongues cut out or their lips sewn together if they so much as speak wrongly."

"Perhaps we did have a soft life, compared to the Qunari," Armen said, "But that life is over. And, the ordinary person in Orlais probably lives a soft life compared to their counterpart in Par Vollen. If the Qun is the standard to measure against, almost everyone except a slave in Tevinter has a soft life."

"To the Fade with the Qun," declared Julie, "It's no different to slavery anyway."

"You're right, it is no different," Tam said, agreeing, "But given the dangers of letting mages roam around, I am not so sure that they can be allowed to have a soft life."

"They're people, same as anyone else," I said to that, "They deserve every opportunity to live their lives peacefully, because everyone does. Separate them, make them some strange thing that isn't really part of your society, and they'll rebel against it. Whether it's the Tevinter guys ruling over non-magic folks, or Circle whatdoyoucallems rebelling and blowing up stuff. The problem is the same. You're separating them, rather than treating them like people."

"Exactly," said Armen, very pleased I had went on a monologue, "I doubt the Qunari abuse their mages for their own personal pleasures or out of spite."

Tam looked annoyed for a second, before breathing out. It looks like the elf had scored a point against her prejudice. "No, such behaviour is punished if discovered, and it is not common. Mages may be dangerous, but they are useful. Misusing them in such a manner would be idiocy. They are also revered, as they struggle most to live within the Qun."

"That's what happened in the Circles. Beatings, abuse, rapes, murder covered up with excuses about blood magic, the kidnapping of children from their parents regardless of whether or not they had magic potential. Did you know that some of the very Templars that guard us are the kidnapped children of Circle mages? Brought up to hate and fear what their parents were."

I couldn't help but flinch at that. I knew I wasn't getting the whole story from Armen, he was after all a partisan in a conflict where the Templars were the enemy. However, if there was even a grain of truth in his claims, it made me very eager to get the hell out of Thedas.

"I didn't know that..." muttered Julie. Of course she didn't, why would the Chantry advertise its corruption to an ordinary believer. Or what they thought was an ordinary believer, rather.

"That is sick," I said, feeling nauseous at the very thought. It sounded like something the death cult I had been fighting would do, kidnapping children to turn them into warriors of God.

"Yes, it is," said Armen, "So that's the life I've had until about a year ago, when Kirkwall's Circle rebelled. I wish I could say I was enjoying my freedom and I have, but it's been a lot of work."

I saw my chance to ask about what I had been thinking about since that morning when I had met him.

"Speaking of work," I interjected, "My question is this: What were you doing in Halamshiral that forced you to be smuggled out in a fruit crate?"

Armen gathered his robes close to him, and grimaced, thinking about his answer. His eyes watched the fire for a moment, before looking up mischievously at me. Slowly, he raised his cup, and drank from it. I threw my arms up in complaint, as he tipped the last of the vodka into his mouth and put the cup down.

"Ah, come on!" I said in frustration, "You climbed out a crate after we watched something explode. You won't tell us if it was you?"

Armen glanced to the heavens for a moment, and then back to me. He was getting drunk, I could tell, as we all were. And it was about to loosen his tongue.

"Actually, that explosion was your fault," he said, waving his finger between all three of us, "I can say that much."

"Wait, what?" asked Julie, "How? It was obviously a magical... thing."

A magical thing indeed. Sending a plume of near-blinding light into the sky would have to be. Well, I could build a weapon that would be more powerful if I had the right materials, and it wouldn't be magic. But I'd be dooming the world if I did. The people of Thedas still aren't mature enough for nukes, to say the least.

"You burned down the prison," Armen explained, "The Circle mages in the Tower took it as a signal that the Templars were about to annul them. The Grand-Enchanter had sent word to look out for something like that as a warning."

"Annul them?" I asked, "Does that mean what I think it does?"

"If you're thinking it means kill every mage in the place, down to the last child, then yes," Armen replied, "Though you probably did them a favour. The Templars seem to be becoming more and more lawless with every passing day. Even the Divine is troubled, or so goes the word."

"The succession probably isn't helping things," said Julie, "Nobles always find the best time to squabble. Not that mages are more trustworthy, no offence Armen."

"None given, none taken," he said, "Fear is understandable for both sides. Mages and the common person have been forcibly separated for centuries."

Except one side used to be able to blast the other to smithereens without fear of retaliation from anything but Templars. Whoever came up with that arrangement was a moron, to say the least. I haven't ever bothered to find out who is responsible, but I doubt Andraste would have been amused to see how things developed. I certainly wasn't.

"So, what you're saying is... I've already struck my first blow for the Mage Rebellion?" I asked.

"Inadvertently, yes," said Armen with a wink, "Welcome to the cause, brother."

"Well, shit," I said, before taking a deep drink. I already felt pretty drunk, but I needed more after hearing those words.

I hadn't considered the explosion's implications for my own situation. Even if our escape had nothing to do with what happened in the Circle Tower that night, our disappearance coincided perfectly with the events. Our involvement, or mine at least, would be suspected. Eventually, someone would try to track us down. I doubted that anyone believed we died in the fire I had started in the records room.

Thankfully, because I had taken the time to destroy just that very room, it would be days or weeks before they figured out enough to come back to the crash-site. At which point I planned to be long gone, either safe in Julie's village or directing my countrymen to invade and destroy the bullshit regime I had found here. Perhaps I could avoid further involvement.

"My turn again," said Julie, "We've been talking a lot about how we might not be able to trust you, Armen..."

She stopped and looked at Tam, one eye closed as if she was aiming a crossbow at the Qunari. Probably because it was obvious where most of the objections to the elf's presence came from. I guess everyone was getting pretty intoxicated at this point.

"But how do you know you can trust _us_?" Julie continued, "How do you know that Tam or I won't turn you in to the Templars? They would pay us a handsome reward if we did, too."

The mage grabbed the bottle from Julie, refilled his cup and drank it quickly. He apparently needed no time to think on an answer; he was entirely unwilling to discuss his real reason for following us beyond what he said already. I didn't particularly want to know, because my suspicions were very much raised over his answer to the question before. Madamoiselle Marteau on the other hand was outraged.

"That's two you didn't answer!" Julie said, waving her cup at Armen like she was a prosecutor.

"He's allowed to do that, if he drinks," I said, cutting in, "If he doesn't want to discuss it, that's his choice. It's bad form, but..."

"I don't believe you're the kind of people to throw a man to the wolves," Armen added, "I'd rather not say more than that."

"You're less fun than I thought you'd be," said Julie, crossing her arms, "But I can't force you."

Tam cleared her throat to get our attention. Our heads swung to her, wondering what she intended to say. She sat up straight, or as much as she could given that she was obviously under the influence now. For a woman of her size, she didn't have much tolerance for alcohol. Yet.

"It is your turn to ask me questions," the Qunari said firmly.

We burst out laughing immediately. She was insistent. I was glad that she was enjoying herself, such that it was. Tam had seemed the most uptight of us, at least where idle chatter was concerned. Her enthusiasm was not dampened by our mirth. After a few more seconds of chuckling and giggling, I caught enough breath to speak.

"Okay, I have a question for you," I said, still half laughing, "If you'll hear it."

"I would be happy to," said Tam, her soft smile beaming at me.

"You say you _were_ Tamassran, but what does that mean? Is that your name?"

"No, it's a profession," Tam replied, "Your name given to you at birth is merely a collection of information about your bloodline, what physical traits you possess. They're too long to use everyday, and they are not easy to shorten. Tamrassan is the role I had in the Qun."

"So what did you do?" Julie asked, "Every day, if that was your job."

"Tamassrans guide Qunari society," Tam replied, "I was mostly involved with the raising of children, teaching them of the Qun and practical life skills, as well as nurturing them as children should be. I was also selected to comfort warriors, as I said before, because I have a correct personality and I am attractive."

She said it all so matter-of-factly that I had no trouble believing it, but it didn't explain her daggerwork or the bow on her back.

"So you were a teacher... mostly?" I said, "With a little bit of courtesan thrown in?"

"No," replied Tam, "Tamassrans select roles for children at the age of twelve, and then shape them for the rest of their lives. Other Qunari would deny it, but we lead society in every meaningful way. We are by far the most honoured of all those under the Qun. Without us, the whole idea would collapse. Caring for children and providing for each other's sexual needs are just two duties on that path. Both are not optional. One turns the next generation into pieces to fit into society. The other is providing for a biological need that cannot be avoided, both for the Tamassran and the warrior. There are other duties."

I wasn't sure if that meant she had a good life before or a bad one. On the one hand, she was clearly in a position of respect and possibly on the path to political power. Perhaps the closest thing to a noble that the Qunari had. On the other, she seemed to be describing systematic sex slavery and the indoctrination of children as her primary duties. I frowned to myself, thinking about the contradiction.

"Do these other duties require a dagger and bow?" Julie asked, clearly referring to how Baldy died.

"All Tamassrans are trained to fight stealthily rather than directly," said Tam, "We are not warriors, but the Qun states that enemies may try to destroy the way by attacking us, so we are to evade and strike from the shadows. We also teach young Qunari warriors their first lessons in combat and how to hunt, so we are required to know how to use blades and bows."

So she was a drill instructor too. I knew I recognised that vicious smile of hers somewhere, and I realised where from. Infantry School. The instructors there were just like Tam in some ways, come to think of it.

"So what else do Tamrassans do, if they're not assassins or soldiers?" I asked.

"Other things. It was not among my duties, but they choose who mates with who, to create the most useful children," Tam started. Great, add eugenics to the list of reasons the Qun sucks.

"Ah, wait!" said Julie, "That brings me to my question."

"By all means," smiled Tam.

"I heard that the Qunari don't have families," Julie said, "Is that true?" I raised an eyebrow at that. It was a good question. How does a society survive without families as the most basic grouping of people?

"Yes," said Tam. An awkward pause came after, as the two stared at each other.

"So... how does that work?" Julie continued.

"Children are born and raised together in units," Tam said.

"Away from their parents?" asked Armen, finally finding something to say. The question was obviously motivated by what he had said about the children of Circle mages. I felt somewhat sorry for him.

"Yes, Tamassrans raise the children," Tam stated with some pride, "We receive ten children each on our twentieth birthday, after eight years of instruction. Some of the younger tamassrans help us raise them, learning from us as we learned from our own elders. There are also wet-nurses for when the children are too young. I spent twelve years with my first group, it was very satisfying to see how they all turned out. I'm sure they're all still serving dutifully, which is less pleasing now that I have abandoned the way."

Tam definitely had the air of a mother about her now, speaking about her charges as if they were her own. I shuddered a little at how powerful an ideology her nation must live under, if it can produce that sort of effect. Though it was exploiting a natural instinct, I couldn't help but think it wrong. I wondered for a moment if Tam had children. I would get my answer soon enough.

"You talk about it as if you were happy," said Julie, smiling a little now.

"I was," Tam responded, "I had purpose."

"Why did you leave then?" asked Armen, "Or were you forced out?"

Tam looked at the elf like he had just released a bad smell. Touchy subject, I guess, but the Qunari was not a cowardly or secretive type. Her upbringing precluded either trait in her, I guessed.

"Is that your question?" she asked. Armen nodded.

Tam took a drink, steeling herself before answering. I lay down and got comfortable, knowing it would be a good story. It was. Julie followed in front of me, leaning her head on the rolled up spare blanket I had been using as a pillow.

"I lived most of my life in Par Vollen. There, the Qun is very much secure and there are no troubles. After I had finished caring my first... batch of children for twelve years, I hoped and expected to be assigned another group. At worst, I thought I would be promoted to oversee such things, as I had been praised for my competence in these matters. But it was not to be."

"What happened?" asked Julie at a half-whisper.

"I was sent to Seheron," Tam said, before turning to me, "It's an island between the Qunari and the Tevinter Imperium. We control much of it, but it remains a battlefield. Fighting between my people, the 'vints and the local rebels is fierce."

"Why would you be sent there?" I asked, as she had said she was not a warrior.

"Children are born there too, of course," said Tam, "But that was not to be my duty there."

"What was?" asked Armen.

"Helping to educate the bas, the unbelievers whom we had captured or forced to surrender. Some elder tamassrans had decided that I was a candidate to be rasaan, a successor to the high priestess and an ambassador who cures persistent unbelievers with qamek. It burns out the mind of the victim until even mages are fit for nothing more than physical labour, worse than your Tranquils. I was sent to observe these rituals, to prepare myself to carry them out. They were testing me."

"And you objected to that?" said Julie, sure that the Qunari had.

"Not at first," Tam replied, "Most of the people we dealt with were... savage. People who had surrendered after burning villages or poisoning wells. I could not care for them, I only saw people who would try and kill the children I had raised."

"Until you met one that didn't seem like that," I said.

"Yes. She was a Tevinter mage, not very high ranked but had been forced to fight due to some obligation to a higher noble house," Tam said, "She had surrendered without a fight when the others had died in an ambush. We tried and tried to convert her, but she knew how we treated mages. She just wanted to flee to the southern lands. We would not let her. I was forced to administer the qamek that time. I fled the Qunari that very night, haunted by a nightmare of her doing to me what I had done. I followed her plan, fled south."

"Don't the Qunari have ways of treating such problems?" Armen said, "Shouldn't you have gone to your fellows?"

"I could have gone to the Ben-Hassrath, but my faith in the way of the Qun had been shaken," said Tam, "They would have attempted to re-educate me, but I would have had to take qamek too, which was what I feared more than anything."

"How did you escape?" asked Julie, "Seheron is a long way from here."

"I surrendered to Tevinter with the personal effects of their mage," said Tam, "They considered enslaving me, a situation I believed I could escape more easily, but in the end they gave me back my weapons and put me on a boat to Antiva. There are many Tal'Vashoth there, I think they meant to spread my story to curry resentment against the Qunari. From there, I moved south as quickly as I could, as far from the reach of either the Imperium or the Ben-Hassrath as I could get."

"Which is why you are so interested in the power of my country," I said, connecting the dots, "Your people couldn't possibly take you from me and mine, we'd put them to the sword."

"It is not just that," said Tam, "Your country is intriguing. Almost the exact opposite to my own, yet it is powerful and obviously wealthy. I want to know how it works."

"Then you should read those books," said Julie, thumbing over her shoulder and my side to the helicopter, "Some of them describe how his country works."

"Perhaps I shall," said Tam, "With your permission."

"No need to ask on my account," I replied, "Go right ahead."

Julie yawned loudly uncontrollably, which set me off doing the same. I checked my watch, and found that it was pretty late. I looked around and discovered that it was pitch black outside the beams of the artificial lights and the flicker of the fire.

There were two moons in the sky too, which I just found to incredible to believe.

"I am drunk," I said, "I'm seeing two moons."

"There are always two moons," said Armen, smirking.

"Oh, right, not Earth," I said, "Time to sleep then, I think."


	16. Shrubberies I

The next lesson I learned about Thedas is that law and order only barely existed, even in Orlais, supposedly the largest and most stable country. You would think with all the harsh justice meted out to anyone even simply appearing guilty, that you wouldn't run into anyone nefarious outside of the aristocracy. Such thoughts are entirely wrong. It just means the smart criminals get away at the expense of the dumb ones. Come to think of it, the situation on Earth was pretty similar in that particular respect. Except with our knowledge of the world, you had to be very smart indeed. Regardless, when I arrived, there were no specialised police officers except the occasional town sheriff, who relied entirely on the nobility for extra manpower. There was also no trial by jury, as I had experienced already. Despite Orlais' supposed reputation for imposing order, as opposed to Fereldan's Do-It-Yourself approach to justice, I found the latter to be far more useful in the mean time than the former. Besides, bringing someone to a sheriff when you are probably wanted for treason is not the best idea.

Any otherworlders out there reading this will understand this chapter's name in due course.

* * *

The circumstances of my night's watch and sleep were comfortable indeed.

We had decided to take it in shifts for the watch, and I drew second to last. Which meant I had about three hours of sleep before I had to get up. Considering how drunk I was, it was very easy to get through that, and it was also pretty easy to wake as I was still drunk when my turn to look out for dangers came along. After which I sat next to the remains of the campfire in the pitch black, with my firelance across myself and a pair of goggles that allowed me to see in the dark attached to my forehead. Another irreplaceable technological marvel, I guess, but it meant that nothing would sneak up on us. Nugs wandered around near the camp, so I had to turn the things on every few minutes to see what the noise was. Fox-like things moved about as well, albeit less often as they were well aware that I was there. Fennecs were their name, I found out when I inquired later. I felt at ease for the first time about the wildlife. If such creatures were around, others, such as dragons, likely were not nearby.

The hour and a half went by quickly, and I woke Armen to relieve me for the final and longest shift. Having four and a half hours sleep on him, he was actually the least fresh of us, feeling the early effects of a hangover. He grumbled about this as he took up his position, and I handed him a canteen of water to shut him up. Which was sipped liberally, as I collapsed into the tangle of opened sleeping bags that we had set up inside the helicopter, after pulling off my armour and setting aside my weapon. Again, I had no trouble falling asleep.

I awoke not because of any noise or particular sensation, but because it felt like I was in a sauna. It was damn warm, and I was sweating. Cracking my eyes open, daylight flooded my sight. I found my legs covered with a sleeping bag, Julie draped over my shoulder and Tam in her apparent customary position on my belly. The former had her arm around me, making things worse, while the latter clung to one sleeping bag while laying down on another. Both were in various states of undress, undoubtedly the result of the rise in temperature. Their body heat poured off them and on to me, even through my uniform's undershirt. What a lucky man I was, as easy it is to see in retrospect.

At the time however, I was desperate with thirst.

I was forced to risk the inevitable stab from Tam's horn to drown it. Neither stirred when I gently started to lift them off of me. Julie was easiest, as I just took her arm and placed it at my side. Tam took a little more manoeuvring, as I was forced to wiggle out from under her and put another sleeping bag under her head. Thus, with a good bit of effort, I raised myself away from the sleeping pit. I looked back down at the pair of them, comfortably asleep. Considering the cares heaped upon them, they appeared very peaceful. Despite their previous situation, I sincerely hoped my presence in this world would not end up making things worse for them.

I drank my water greedily, despite it being as nastily warm as the air. As I would be unable to get back to sleep, the space to do so taken up by my two sleeping partners anyway, I put on my combat webbing over my shirt and stepped outside. It was late-morning, as far as I could tell, and there wasn't even a wisp of a breeze. The humidity had risen as well, making matters worse. I had an urge to try and wave the wall of heat away from me, but knew it wouldn't help. Besides, the smell of cooking meat soon wafted in my direction.

Armen was sat looking glum by the rekindled fire, cooking a nug to a crisp. I guessed he was still hungover. His robes were pulled tight around him, and his jaw was clenched as if he was in pain. Unable to stand the sight of him in depression, particularly when I was in such a good mood, I grabbed something from my pack and went to him. The horse looked up from its resting position as I did so, watching us.

"Here, these will help with the headache," I said, holding out two medicinal pills for him, "More Earthling magic."

He took the two wordlessly, examined them in his palm for a moment, then looked up at me. I gave my most reassuring nod, before poking at the nug with a stick. I hoped it wasn't one of the two I had seen before, as he swallowed the painkillers without any water.

"You'll feel better in a few minutes," I added with a yawn.

"Thank you," he replied.

"Not a problem," I said, "Any chance I could have a piece of that?" I pointed at the nug.

"Wasn't planning on eating it all myself anyway," said Armen, turning the meat, "Are you going to show me your weapons?"

I looked at him, not really sure what he was talking about for a moment until I remembered the conversation from the night before. I _had_ promised that, in my drunkenness. I thought about turning him down, fearing that he might be able to figure out some means of replicating the weapons. But, the idea of going back on my word, even my drunken word, didn't sit right with me. Aside from my own dubious honour, I needed him to trust me if we were going to get away to real safety.

I pat him on the shoulder, and stood up. First, I retrieved the machinegun and the precision firelance from the helicopter, and put them beside him.

"Don't touch yet," I said, "These can hurt you."

Armen nodded solemnly, indicating that he understood me despite his curious glances at the things. Satisfied he wasn't going to blow his own head off looking down the barrel of the Minimi, I wandered off to the cave.

Upon entering, I breathed with relief. It was cool inside, gloriously so. The thought occurred to me to grab a blanket and sleeping bag, and decamp to the shelter provided there for another few hours sleep, but I realised we'd need to get moving too soon for that to be an option. With some sadness at the haste we would need to show, I lifted the first metal container off the stack and dragged it out of the cave.

I took it to Armen, opened it up, and took out one of the dozen or so firelances inside. I had to play with the moment, putting on my best dodgy salesman act as I showed him the weapon.

"Introducing the Gewehr 36, from the finest gunsmiths at Heckler and Koch," I said, holding it at shoulder height, "Firing five-five-sixers at a rate of seven hundred rounds a minute, this weapon is perfect for any mage looking to down a pesky Templar platoon from a safe distance. Results guaranteed."

Armen smiled, getting the joke immediately. Merchant pitches are the same in any universe.

"As you can see, the weapon's controls are fully ambidextrous, and it comes with an integrated sight for maximum accuracy," I continued, "Feel the weight. And don't point it at me."

I handed him the weapon. He did as he was told, balancing the thing between his two hands as if weighing it, before grabbing it as he had seen me do with my own example. He looked it over for a minute or two as I sat. Soon, he had figured out the sights, and was aiming downrange at the dragon's skeleton in an impressively competent firing stance. He pulled the trigger, releasing a small click sound, before holding the firelance out again to me. I grinned, able to tell that he was impressed.

"You used these before?" Armen asked, "In your own world?"

"And others like them," I confirmed, "They're very common."

"What about these?" the mage continued, indicating the two unique examples I had, "They seem different."

"They are," I said, picking up the precision device, "This can hit a single man at eight hundred yards, or more if you're very good. That's what the telescope is for on top, see?"

"Can you demonstrate this?" he asked, slyly. A transparent attempt to work out the mechanics of the weapon, in other words.

"I have no doubt you will see me use it before we're done," I replied, "Nice try, though."

"I'm sure you would ask the same if our places were reversed," Armen smirked.

"Absolutely," I said, packing the weapons away again.

* * *

Julie and Tam soon woke up to the smell of the cooking nug. However little myself and Armen were able to eat, the rest soon disappeared into their mouths in short order. Which was fine by me, infatuated idiot that I was. Am. Whatever. I chewed on some snacks from the ration packs we had already opened instead.

Breakfast finished with, we began loading up the cart with the contents of the cave cache. It was no small task, as moving them to the cave was not either. I had them stacked in a way that would make us look more like arms dealers than people from another world. Weapons, ammunition and explosives went on the bottom, because they were the most obviously bizarre things to any uneducated observer. The bulletproof armour and provisions went in the middle, and the crates that were originally on the cart were put on top. The object being to hide the contents below in case someone made a quick search.

Of course, I couldn't help but add yet more cargo to it.

I spent two hours ripping equipment out of the helicopter. Lighting devices, loudspeakers and headphones for playing back sound from the music player or from voice-projecting microphones, devices for controlling the power of electricity and others for generating it from movement. I even took the fire extinguishers and a lot of the wiring. Anything I thought useful, it got ripped out. Normally, there was a beacon that would have given the position of the machine to others, but it was totalled, so I took its power source too. Most of it got put in the huge box that Armen had hid in. I was fielded questions on every last thing I pulled out too, so it took far longer than I thought, but I was happy to answer. By the end, the wagon was almost too heavily packed to carry us as well. Something that would need to be dealt with.

We were almost ready to go, so I called everyone over for a small gift. A rather utilitarian one.

"Here, take these," I said, handing out the bounty. It was a series headsets and radios, the ones that remained intact from the dragon attack. I explained what they were, and briefly how they worked, not needing to explain the really advanced stuff as it was unlikely that it would ever be necessary. The others found this stuff far more interesting than anything else they had seen thus far.

"So we can talk from a distance, without needing to shout..." said Tam, checking if she had heard me correctly.

"As long as that number on the display is the same as everyone else's, yes," I replied, "It works a quarter of a mile away too."

As Tam is wont to do, she ran off at a sprint to the dragon skeleton. The others looked at her in confusion, but I knew what she was at. Once the Qunari had reached her destination, she waved her hand. I activated the radio.

"Can you hear me?" I said, quietly enough so there was no chance of my voice carrying that far. Julie and Armen flinched slightly as my voice filtered through their headset to their ears directly. They weren't the only ones.

"Yes, I can," said Tam, incredulous that it worked even as the radio transmitted her voice into our ears.

"Well, we can hear you too, so come on back," I replied.

Tam jogged back with a thoughtful face. I guess she was thinking about how useful it would be. Armen had a similar visage plastered on. Given what we discovered his new profession was, it is not surprising. Julie skipped that, and began fiddling with the microphone and headseat to make them more comfortable, drawing her hair back so it wouldn't get in the way. At least one of them wasn't stunned by the concept, thankfully.

With that nonsense out of the way, there were two tasks I had to perform before leaving.

First, I went to the graves of Fraser, Patel, and the others, and saluted them, before saying a short prayer for the repose of their souls. It was all I had left to do, where that was concerned.

Second, I got out the marker stylus with which I had marked their graves, and wrote a message on both the inside and outside of the helicopter.

" _Sam Hunt, United Nations Mission for Syria and Iraq (UN-SIFOR). British Army escort and RAF crew dead. Natives likely hostile, but technologically regressed. I have retreated to village of Hearth. Proceed south along nearby road. Evac would be nice._ "

Julie read these words aloud, understanding every word. Tam frowned. I asked them what they thought.

"Natives hostile?" Julie asked back with a chuckle.

"The first people I met almost stuck me with swords," I said with a shrug, "Before that, we were attacked by dragons. More importantly, you punched me in the face. Have to warn them."

"Uh huh," said Julie, evidently sceptical.

"It's not like everyone's going to run into beautiful and friendly women out here," I said to both Julie and Tam, eliciting frowns of exasperation. Flattery will get you everywhere, gentlemen. Though she saw through my attempts as the pathetically cheesy silliness that they were.

"What if this is deciphered?" Tam said, with a hint of worry, "They might not understand it, but someone could recognise the type of lettering and guess that you came this way."  
  
"A breadcrumb?" I asked, to general confusion, "It's possible, but unlikely. They have no reason to go off the road, the documents that describe this location are gone and Goldie likely has more than enough on his plate. Nobles in my world didn't go chasing up leads themselves. Those they might send, we can deal with, because they won't be nobles."

"Well, I can't deny that," Julie said, glancing at the dragon corpse, "Can we go home now?"

Go home? I wished.

Of course, she meant go to her home. Which would become mine, in time. But first, we had to get there. We returned to the wagon and set out in good spirits, leaving the crash site to the forest. I didn't glance back, confident that I had done all that I could.

 


	17. Shrubberies II

It became clear that the horse was having the worst of the journey after about half an hour. The poor thing's pace dropped off sharply compared with before. The cart itself had also taken to creaking loudly at every pothole or stone it bumped into, of which there were obviously very many. The road was unpaved for most of its course, looking more like a country lane in some places, before turning into a wide stony thoroughfare at others. I hopped off the cart and began walking ahead of it, hoping to relieve some of the weight to allow the horse to pick up the pace. I was well used to marching about and presumed myself to be the heaviest. It seemed ungentlemanly to get any of the others to walk. Particularly when I couldn't drive the cart myself anyway.

So, I strapped on a helmet, donned my armour once again and strode out ahead, armed to the teeth as I was. I was pleased to find that the horse was indeed relieved to a large degree, and it trotted along more happily and at a quicker rate. 

The scenery quickly went from forest to a more agricultural landscape. Woodlands made way for fields of crops both short and tall, with the occasional pasture filled with cows or things that would spark a scientific investigation if they showed up in my world. It was the first clue that we were in the hinterland of a settlement. As we walked past the farms, I realised that most of the work in the world was likely to be tied up in them and others like them. Most people would be farm labourers, their heads barely above water. Little better than slaves. I thanked God that I was not born into such a system, that my fore-bearers had the good sense to rebel against it. I had no doubt that Julie thanked the Maker for her trade too, despite her other problems. She is an excellent blacksmith, and would make a poor farm serf. Others were far less fortunate, having to sell themselves or being born to it.

The journey to Gethran's Crossing, the village we were aiming for, was supposed to take about two or three hours. After that amount of time, we were barely half way there. We came across some people moving about, on the way to some labour or another. They stared as they passed, mostly at Tam and I. There were even less Qunari this far south, and my strange dress probably made me look like a complete idiot. There is, however, a difference between looking like an idiot and being one. We would run into unfortunates who possessed both traits soon enough. For the mean time, I walked through the summer heat in full battle-dress, still more comfortable than I would have been if I had stayed in the desert on Earth. It was still twenty degrees colder than it would have been there, at least.

"This is taking too long," grumbled Tam over the radio, after another hour or two of the same. I think she was worried about being caught again, as I had caught her looking back behind us every time I myself had glanced back to check on the wagon. Armen was snoring away on top of the boxes by that point, and Julie was driving.

"Try walking it," I shot back cheerfully, "I assure you, you'll feel every mile." I'm sure the others could probably smell every mile at this point, even from twenty yards behind. Humidity is a bitch.

"That might help..." she conceded, "But we shouldn't leave the cart with only two to guard it."

"I agree with Tam," said Julie, throwing her two coppers in, "It'll take a lot longer than a week if this is how fast we're moving." Which was more than a little dangerous for us, if true. I didn't like the sound of it at all.

"Is there anything we can do?" I asked, "Take a boat maybe?"

"Too expensive," said Julie, "Plus stealing one would be a lot harder than simply stealing another horse or two."

"Horse theft is a hanging crime in Orlais," said Tam, "They accused me of it at Halamshiral, I don't want to be accused of it again." Implying she had a horse when she arrived. Which was a little curious.

"If the chevaliers catch up with us, I suspect horse theft will be the least of our problems," replied Julie.

"I'd prefer not to draw the attention of those fuckwits to us," I said firmly, "We obey the laws unless we're threatened. Maybe we can buy another horse in trade for some of the stuff we have."

Julie mumbled something about horses only belonging to rich bastards, which was only audible to me due to the radio. I let out a chuckle, but was cut short by something ahead of me.

The hedges were moving across a fallow field towards us.

I stopped in my tracks. Hedges don't usually move on their own usually, and as I had yet to encounter possessed trees, I concluded that they could only be in transit as cover for people hiding behind them. No one here could be aware of my capabilities, or those of my companions, which ruled out fear as the reason for hiding. The people approaching were clearly hostile. I readied my weapon to fire quickly, and whispered into my radio mouthpiece.

"Stop the cart, we have company. Wake Armen, and get ready to fight."

The rumbling of the cart ceased. The sound of feet hitting the ground behind me confirmed that Tam and the mage had disembarked from the cart, and a quick glance confirmed that Julie remained on the cart. I cursed, thinking I should have given the others some of the body armour that was sat useless on the back of the damn thing in a box. Meanwhile, the hedges moved in, one laying itself across the road in front, and another behind.

Armed men emerged from behind, carrying rather crappy looking swords and maces and battered wooden shields. Some sported chainmail, others hardened leather. However, despite their substandard equipment, they looked like men who could fight. Men who had seen more than one too. Each of them had scars in places where you would expect soldiers to have them. Possibly combat veterans then, I knew. Not that it would matter. I had something they had never seen before, something that would make them doubt.

The most striking thing about them however was the helmets. While they all wore different types, of varying quality and shapes, one thing was common throughout. Two horns, like a bull's or a goat's, stuck out of the side of them. Most of their faces were covered with a sheet of metal too, only their eyes peering out at us. Intimidation tactics were the motive, obviously, though while such a thing might scare a medieval peasant, I was a little more hardened. I was tempted to invite them to watch a man burn alive.

The man leading them swung a huge axe over his shoulder, which was well suited to him as he easily matched my height and build, perhaps surpassing it. His armour was a little more worthy of the name, and he put himself in the middle of the road, and stared at us. He was waiting for one of us to act.

Of course, one whiff of fear and they'd all attack simultaneously. I stood to my full height, and attached my bayonet to my firelance before speaking.

"What have we here?" I asked, half-laughing, "The Knights Who Say Ni? You already appear to have a shrubbery. I don't suppose we could simply pass peacefully?"

The joke is one many would get now, but none could have then. My bravado was far from hollow, I might say at this point. It was merely designed to throw them off balance, maybe even convince them to let us go via confidence.

"This is _La Royaume des Bocages_ , and I am the king," declared Big One in an extremely deep tone, "For passage, you must pay your dues or face the wrath of the Horned Men." Either the man was putting on a voice to seem scary, or he needed to stop smoking.

So they were bandits, it turned out. Ruling over a hilariously named kingdom of the hedges. I have to say I was genuinely surprised, but then, I didn't know about the Fifth Blight or the unrest that had swirled around in Orlais in its aftermath. I had thought the nobles would stamp out such groups with no small degree of urgency, but apparently they're too stupid even for that. The Great Game consuming too much of their time for them to bother with basic governance. It's no wonder the 'Freemen of the Dales' gave them such trouble.

"We have the ones at the back," whispered Armen on the radio. Which granted me permission to do what I did next.

"The Horned Men huh?" I said, looking from side to side at the dozen men.

Big One took a step forwards. "No games. Surrender or we rob your corpses instead." The death threat had been issued, the possibility of mercy disappeared with it.

"But we haven't been properly introduced yet," I complained. I made a theatrical bow, and took my weapon into my hands. The idiots simply watched me.

"Well then, Horned Men," I said, "Meet the Wu Tang Clan."

The look of confusion on Big One's face was classic as I raised my weapon to my shoulder. A three round burst erupted from the barrel of the firelance, the bullets pinging through his armour before ripping into his chest with wet thuds. He tottered on his feet for a second, as if to move towards me. A bloody gasp later, and he fell forwards, landing on the ground hard and most certainly dead. A fitting end to a bastard, I felt.

No time to waste however.

I turned my firelance on the next target to the left, before the man could react. Another three bullets ripped into him, as a blinding flash from behind me followed immediately by a thunderclap confirmed Armen's involvement in the combat. The horse reared in fear, whining, but stayed put as all directions were cut off with some form of fighting.

The bandits were divided without their leader. The more grizzly looking ones charged at me like madmen, weapons raised and roaring like animals. The others turned and fled, deciding that facing off against us was not going to be a profitable venture. Probably because I just killed two men in as many seconds without any effort at all. Funnily enough, the would-be cowards had the right idea.

I dispatched the next three from left to right with no trouble at all, the victims of my fire tripping over themselves as they fell with fatal wounds, centre-mass. Chainmail and leather doesn't stop bullets in the slightest. The feeling of a complete and easy victory washed over me, the buzz of battle distracting me. It almost got me killed.

I sent bursts chasing after the fleeing bandits, killing another two or three of them. My blood was well and truly up, and I had no intention of leaving witnesses to my capabilities walking around. I had failed to notice the two sneaky fucks with daggers charging me from the right, well outside my peripheral vision. Fortunately, I had a guardian angel.

The first I knew that there was anyone behind me was the sound of a handcannon going off. Three shots. I turned quickly, firelance raised. I lowered it quickly.

Two bodies fell to the ground barely two paces from me, bloody wounds sprouted on them. The bandit behind had two holes in his chest, and the nearer one was missing a significant piece of his head. Both had branches with leaves strapped to them by netting, in a primitive camouflage. I turned on the spot, and found Julie a little further behind, my handcannon in her hand and pointed around.

She was shaking a little, but stopped as soon as she noticed that I was watching. She lowered the weapon quickly, and brushing a curl of hair out of her face.

"Good shot," I said, to reassure her, "When did you take my pistol?"

"Just before you got off the cart," she said, holding it out, "Sorry." I thought about rebuking her, given how dangerous the thing was, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I found her in such a bad situation that I wanted to protect her almost by instinct. I sighed for a moment, and rubbed my temples.

"It turned out well, so I forgive you," I replied, taking the weapon from her, "I'm just surprised you were able to get it working, or that you could shoot them so cleanly." Cleanly meaning accurately, not without mess. Flying metal tends to make things unclean.

"I learned from watching you shoot at Armen at the river," she said, cheering up a little, "I only need to see something once to remember it, and I remember everything." My eyebrow raised at that.

"A photographic memory..." I said, "That's quite a skill."

"It's not always a good thing," Julie replied, "I remember bad things perfectly too."

To be honest, I should have guessed that my new favourite blacksmith had an ability like that. Being able to read an entirely new script in mere hours, after having translated it herself, is simply too abnormal. It was only one aspect that made up Julie's pitiless intelligence, which would serve her well in the years to come. Having realised this, I made a decision.

I gave her back the handcannon.

"If you know how to use it, then keep it," I said, "There's a box full of them that I can use instead... As long as you know where the safety is."

"I do," smirked Julie, accepting the gift, "I'll keep it hidden, too."

"Good idea," I said, as the other two approached, "I'll teach you how to maintain it later."

I turned to find Tam was covered in blood, as was the dagger in her hand. No doubts there that she had opted for the close-quarters fight, as opposed to relying on her bow. Probably for the reason that had almost cost me my life; she could not have killed everyone with her bow before they charged her down. Bows aren't fitted with bayonets, as you can imagine. I shuddered at the sight again. I wasn't ever sure whether I was attracted to her or terrified of her at this point in our association, and one could turn to the other with alarming quickness. Okay, that's a lie, I was still overwhelmingly attracted to her. It's not like I hadn't seen a woman kill before. It was simply the nature of the fighting that was different. More personal.

Armen on the other hand was arching electricity between the head and base of his staff, ready for another discharge. He looked around, and seeing no bandits left alive, grounded the lightning and resumed his casual gait. He approached, picking his way through the dead with a still-alert Tam in tow. I snapped the bayonet off of my firelance, and slung it again, waiting for his comment.

"I see you were not exaggerating," he said, "Most of them just wanted out as fast as their legs could carry them."

"Most of them didn't get away," I remarked, with a glance to the fields where the runners had taken hits to the back.

"I doubt they expected you to start shooting lightning bolts at them either," Julie added, finding a good spot for her new pistol on her toolbelt.

"Don't forget the firebolts," said Tam flatly, finally putting away her dagger.

"They didn't expect you to be armed with that," Armen corrected, pointing at Julie's belt and ignoring the Qunari's comment.

"No, they certainly did not," smiled Julie.

"We should get moving," said Tam, "No doubt someone heard the noise."

"Somehow, I don't think they'll come running," Armen said to her, "People who can summon fire and lightning? They'll leave that sort of thing to the Templars, who are far from here."

An idea occurred to me, looking at all the dead people around us. One that would see us moving along a little faster.

"Well, since we have the time," I started, "Let's check these ones, maybe they have something useful we can sell."

The others looked between each other, and agreed without a word. Tam and Julie began rifling through the pockets of those who had been caught close to the wagon, the latter taking Big One's two-handed axe. So now we had four extremely lethal individuals rather than just three. Armen and myself wandered to check on the others that had gotten a little distance away before I had shot them. The radios proved more than worth their weight in gold, as we were all able to speak despite being apart.

"The Maker is pleased with us," declared Julie, as I turned over one of my victims, "The _fils de pute_ here has a big bag of gold and silver. I guess we weren't the only people he stopped."

The Big Guy Upstairs was smiling on us. For the moment.

"Good, do you think it's enough for a horse?" I asked, having no idea how much a horse was worth in either world.

"A horse, a new cart, silk frills on a dress," she replied, "They must have been doing this for a while. I recall rumours of bandits up north, something about them avoiding taxes and robbing minor nobles. I guess we found them."

Such banditry being far easier when you don't have cars and helicopters.

"Then we have done Orlais a great service," said Tam, not a hint of sarcasm leaking into her tone.

"That we have," said Julie cheerily, "And to the victors, go the spoils." She shook the bag, making it clink, a sound that easy on the ear.

"An attitude I can get behind," added Armen, "Unfortunately, the others seem to be devoid of anything useful, apart from some bad wine."

I rifled through the pockets of yet another bandit, finding nothing. His chainmail was rusted, not even worth the trouble of ripping off and selling later. I stood up and rejoined Armen, who had found nothing either on two others that had seemed far more promising from a distance to me.

I nodded in the direction of the cart, and the elf walked with me back the way we had come.

"By the way, I must ask," he said, "Wu Tang Clan?"

I let out a laugh, reliving the line I had given the bandits. I amuse myself a lot, I think. With others, it's hit or miss.

"I introduced us like that, because the Wu Tang Clan ain't nothin' to..." I began.

Armen gave me a blank look, and I shut my mouth for a second.

"What?" asked Julie by radio, "Nothing to what?"

"Never mind," I chuckled, "It would take too long to explain." Like many other things that were completely unnecessary pieces of information.

 


	18. Informant

For those who do not know it, the village of Gethran's Crossing is some thirty or forty miles south of Halamshiral, on the road running from there through to the Emprise du Lion all the way to the Greatwood, or the Emerald Graves as it is known to the Dalish. The settlement sits on the western bank of one of the many tributary rivers that eventually join up and flow past the winter capital and into the sea, the tributary being passable to small ships until just afterwards. I remember being surprised at the wealth of such a small village as we rolled into it in due course. It seemed a positive hive of activity, with wagons and boats bustling about towards a dockyard where the aforementioned cargo ships waited to take minerals and farm produce north to the cities. There seemed no shortage of taverns, what I can only presume were brothels, coopers, blacksmiths, and most crucially, stablemasters. I remarked on this to Julie, asking if all places in Orlais were so obviously prosperous. She snorted with derision.

"This place is rich off the backs of everyone upriver," said Julie, "No tariffs here, so the cost is reduced for the _aristos_ in Halamshiral."

Which would turn out to have fairly devastating consequences for the place, when it remained loyal to Empress Celene during the coming war. Gaspard would sack it on his way up to Halamshiral. However, such things were beyond my knowledge to predict, and at the time, I put down the comment to regional rivalry and jealousy. I couldn't blame her for it, taxes arbitrarily imposed on one part of the country and relieved off of another does tend to create resentment. Particularly if no one who lives in either has a say in setting taxes. It was worse than I thought, the royal court to the north acting like a leech, sucking the lifeblood from the land and gorging on it.

I looked on, observing the bustle until I realised that people were staring at me. My person specifically, not Tam or Armen, whom should have drawn more attention. I quickly understood the reason, and took off my helmet. I looked positively bizarre to a person who had never seen a firelance, bulletproof armour or even desert-pattern camouflage. All things that are known around these parts nowadays of course, but things that would obviously turn heads back then. I hung the helmet off its straps on my hip as I walked, and donned my blue beret once again. People turned their heads away immediately, only the brave continuing to stare.

"What's their problem?" I asked the others, as we came up on the quarter where the stables were.

"They think you're a royal officer, I think," said Armen, not quite sure, "Blue and gold are the royal colours of Orlais, your hat with that golden clasp and your bearing would suggest you are someone of importance." I snorted my amusement at that. First imprisoned as a brigand and a murderer, now people were scattering to avoid me as a noble. I wished they'd make up their minds for a moment, before remembering a detail.

"Wait, I'm not wearing a mask," I said, "Wouldn't they think I'm a commoner?"

"In weather like this?" said Julie with a smile, "Many nobles would take off their masks at this time of the day, or they'd suffocate. Only the most 'honourable' would keep theirs on."

"I don't understand why they wear them to begin with," said Tam.

"That's complicated," replied Julie, "But it's a tradition."

"How do they court each other without knowing what they all look like underneath?" Tam continued. The reputation of Orlais preceded it in that regard.

"They take the masks off in private company," Julie said, "Particularly when they are with friends or noble acquaintances in their own homes. It's only when commoners are around that they keep them on as much as possible."

"Bizarre," I muttered. Tam agreed with a nod, and the others said no more. It wasn't like we could change anyone's mind on the subject anyway. Not yet at least.

We arrived at a likely stable, the largest of the lot on the other side of town. Julie and I agreed that we should be the ones to go in, so the others wandered off with the cart in search of a place to eat and drink. We entered, putting our best buyers' faces on.

There were many stableboys, of varying ages from barely larger than a toddler to early adulthood, but they merged into the woodwork in comparison to the stablemaster himself. He wasn't a particularly large fellow, but he looked like he could benchpress a horse himself. I guessed he got a lot more meat than the others. Probably horsemeat, no less. He had grey hair covering the top of his head thickly, but a thin beard and moustache, the sort you'd get if you hadn't bothered to shave for a month. Aside from that, his clothes looked better than most of the peasants around the place. A busy man, one that liked to bark orders around. I wondered if his throat could withstand much more as I approached with Julie, while the others parked the wagon in a discreet corner elsewhere.

The man eyed over, looking me up and down for a solid minute before speaking.

"Do agents of the crown usually walk about in blistering heat?" he said, making the same mistake as those on the street. Resisting the urge to laugh at that, I kept a straight face and tread carefully.

"A man with no spare horses has no choice," I replied, neither confirming nor denying his notion that I was a noble, "I'm here to buy."

"Well, you're in the right place at least," he said, slapping a resting stablehand on the head lightly to get her moving again, "Might take a while to get the creatures ready, but you'll have them by the end of the day." I frowned at that. Every hour brought royal retribution, or discovery by the Templars, ever closer. Arguing about it didn't seem like it would hurry things along however, so I simply nodded my assent. The man clearly noticed my displeasure, but appreciated my polite reserve and waved us over to a desk.

"What exactly do you need?" he asked, taking his seat and a piece of parchment to hand.

I turned to Julie, having not a single clue about horses to begin with.

"Two packhorses, and a decent saddle for the one we already have," she said, smiling sweetly as she did so. The stablemaster's eyes flickered to me, his manner warming up a little.

"Do you let your servants speak for you?" he asked, leaning back in his seat and smirking. I can still remember the death glare that Julie gave him. Luckily, I was quick enough on the draw that I had exactly the right response, one good enough to stop her returning to the wagon for her axe, to split the man in two.

"She's my mistress," I replied, with an equally cheeky smirk, "I like practical people."

I won points for both lines, I could tell. That's how you play someone. Read them, then attend to their expectations of who you present yourself to be as best you can. Though it is also important not to overplay your hand. The man examined Julie again, who had softened a little thanks to my comment. Evidently I had won points with her too. It was obvious that he wasn't looking at her in a polite manner, and I was about to say something about it when his gaze came back to me.

"I bet you like a full bosom too," he said with no small degree of cynicism, "Practicality is great, but I see you haven't compromised on..."

"I'm standing right here," interrupted Julie, crossing her arms, "Or do you want to continue the discussion?" It wasn't a question.

The stablemaster's eyebrows twitched for a moment. He wasn't used to being talked to like that, I could tell. Not that he had any excuse for such commentary, but I decided to intervene before he lost his head. Literally and figuratively.

"No, I think we're done," I said, before he could sign his own death warrant, "Can you help us, good ser?"

"Yes, I have plenty of packhorses," he said, "Any preference on the saddle? My boy is a tanner, so we get all the leatherwork done here too."

"Something comfortable, but not priced at a rate close to thievery, would be nice," said Julie sternly.

"What, you're working on a budget?" the stablemaster complained to me, "I have to earn a living too, you know?" A transparent attempt to both embarrass me as a supposedly wealthy person and engage my non-existent sense of noblesse oblige. Still, there was no point being a cheapskate either. That tends to get you in trouble, when it matters.

"Like I said, she's a practical person," I replied, "I'll buy your best two packhorses, if that's any help."

The stablemaster mumbled to himself, nodding his agreement. He began writing, laying out the goods and pricing in the letters I couldn't understand. A few minutes of humming to himself, and he held the offer up to me. I passed the parchment to Julie for assessment, horse economics not being my area of expertise. She grimaced, tilting her head to work out the figures, as she likes to do when thinking. When her head raised, she was smiling again.

"And here I thought you were an unreasonable person," Julie said, "This will do perfectly."

"Well, I'm a soft one for a pretty lady," he joked, "Even if they do speak out of turn."

"Good to know," Julie replied flatly.

"Well then, make your mark," the stablemaster said to me, holding up a stylus made from a colourful feather. I raised an eyebrow, considering the possibility of letting Julie do the honours, but quickly understood that it would be bizarre for a noble. It was supposedly my money, after all. I took the ostentatious feather and wrote the name " _Napoléon Bonaparte_ " in a cursive, unreadable way, which was the first Orlesian sounding name that came to mind. The stablemaster held up the paper and blew it to dry the ink, before turning back to me.

"I'm sorry, we did not introduce ourselves," he said, glancing at the signature, "I am Pietre deSelle." I paused for a moment, panicking slightly. It hadn't occurred to me that we hadn't exchanged names. In the end, I just went with the deception that was most convenient. It did not pass without suspicion.

"Napoléon Bonaparte, in the military service of our glorious Empress," I replied. Ingloriously incompetent Empress, is what I should have said. But that would have raised doubts. Undoubtedly.

"Bonaparte... That sounds Antivan, but you look like a Fereldan," the stablemaster said, scratching his head, "How did a Fereldan with an Antivan name become Orlesian nobility?" His questions were getting on my nerves, or rather, my nerves were showing. I opted for intimidation.

"My grandfather married well," I said, leaning over the table towards him, "You are a curious one, aren't you?"

He betrayed no sign of being intimidated except for one thing. His eyes widened to a very notable degree. He regretted the question, clearly, but the ball was in his court. He could attack, call for guards, or give up. Unsure which path he'd take, I stared at him, seeing if he would react further. My hand edged towards the holster of my handcannon, ready to fire if required. Just when I thought he was about to break, Julie cleared her throat to get our attention. Both of us broke off the confrontation.

"Our business is concluded, _Monsieur_ deSelle," she said, "We shall return in a few hours for our property."

"Thank you, _madame_ ," he said quickly, taking the out she had given him, "I hope you'll do business with me again in the future." Not damned likely, you nosy jerk.

I stood up again, contract in hand and left the stable yard, Julie in tow. I rolled up the paper, and stuck it in a side pocket of my pack, safe and sound. My companion broke into giggles when we cleared the threshold, to my bewilderment.

"What is so funny?" I asked.

"I'm your mistress now, am I?" she said, taking my arm, "You shall have to dress me in the finest silks. I have expensive tastes." I scoffed at that in jest, but she wasn't actually joking.

"In the mean time, let's just find Tam and Armen," I said, "It makes me nervous, those two alone."

"On that, we can agree," she said.

* * *

We found the Qunari and the mage at an open air tavern by the river, a bar covered with a wooden roof but no walls. It was a humble place, obviously for the dockworkers and coopers when they had finished up work. It was early afternoon, so the place was mostly empty, lunch hour having passed a while ago by that stage. I didn't mind that sort of place at all, except that it might blow my cover as a noble simply by being anywhere near it. Not that I had deliberately set out to pretend to be an aristocrat, but apparently it was the inevitable conclusion. Our two fellow travellers were sat next to a table with a clear view of the wagon, both facing it to make sure no one touched it.

Not that they would have noticed, as they were both knocking wooden jugs and drinking, a plate of hard bread and cheese set down in front of them. I never could figure out what they thought of each other. One moment, they would be eating and drinking merrily together like this, the next they would be squabbling over mage-crap. Julie and myself took our seats, eliciting a shouted greeting.

"Welcome to the party!" declared Armen, "Did you get what we need?"

"We did, and at a good price too," said Julie happily, "What's on the menu today?"

"The bread's a bit tough, but the cheese and ale are both good," Armen replied, "But that's not the best thing about this place."

"Oh, and what is?" I asked.

Right on cue, the waitress approached with another plate of food and two mugs. She was an elf, and a very beautiful one too. Blonde hair tied up in a ponytail, petite, and looking cheerful in her work. Couldn't work out her age exactly, but it had to be only slightly younger than the mage himself. I groaned, as Armen smiled like a buffoon at the girl, taking her hand and thanking her. To my shock, it worked. She seemed as smitten as he was, or was acting like it. Of course, his staff was nowhere to be seen.

"Do you need anything else?" she asked, holding her tray in her arms.

"We're okay for now," Armen said, "When I need something, I'll come find you." I swear to gentle Christ, the man winked at her. The waitress nodded, before turning on the spot to return behind the bar. Armen watched as she left, and I have to admit, what he was staring at was worth a little time. Julie noticed and slapped my shoulder playfully, and I grinned back.

"Good to see you aren't all business," I said, "For a moment there, I thought the cheek was just a cover for your rebel activities."

"He's been like this since we got here," said Tam, holding her cup up to drink, "It's very amusing. Will she run and scream when she finds out you are a mage?"

"She's not going to find out," replied Armen, before drinking his ale deeply.

"Might as well go for it," I said, "We have a couple of hours to kill."

The elf looked thoughtful for a moment, before getting up out of his seat slowly. He straightened his robes, removing a small dagger from a sleeve and placing it down on the table. I looked between the weapon and its owner for a moment, confused.

"You're right," he said, "Templars could come and kill me at any moment. Time to live. I am free now."

I felt like cheering the fellow, as he wandered off to chat with his new-found interest. She brightened up as he approached, and the two sat on high stools to speak. There weren't any other customers, so they had plenty of uninterrupted time. I looked on, and raised my cup in salute. That was the sort of spirit that endeared the man to me greatly. Righteous use of life, that.

"He claimed to be a scholar-confidant of a noble, by the way," Tam said, "To explain the robes."

"Ran into something similar at the stables," I thought aloud, "Is it really that easy to look like a noble?"

"Well, think about it," said Julie, "What's the difference between a noble and a commoner? What they wear and how they act. Your clothes are bizarre, yes, but anyone can tell that they're expensive compared to what a farm labourer wears. And you don't act like a commoner at all. You walk more upright, and you speak more openly without seeming insolent."

"I walk like that because I was trained to," I objected, "I'm not a noble."

"Doesn't matter," said Tam, "These people have never met anyone like you before. They'll make mistakes."

I conceded at that point. It was true. My homeland, where I was born and raised, where I learned everything I know of how to act, was an alien world to these folk. They would find my former countrymen arrogant if not confident, not only because of our achievements but because of our culture. We have known freedom for so long that we cannot imagine life without it. The opposite was true of the people around me that day. They had known nothing but unbending tyranny. I could say nothing, if they thought me a noble for thinking myself free.

At least, for the moment.

We ate and drank in a comfortable silence through the hottest hours of the day, enjoying the rest and watching the activity of the town. It was a soothing thing, pretending not to be a chased fugitive from another world. Armen disappeared into a storeroom with the waitress after an hour, which provided a good laugh for a while. We polished off the food and drink soon afterwards, and lamented our friend's occupation of the server.

Just as I became tempted to go to the storeroom door to get the would-be lovers out of there, as it was nearing the time to go get our new horses, trouble decided to rear its head in a most unexpected way.

A man with a longbow slung across him stopped in front of us. He was neither old nor young, was of average build in every way except that he looked slightly better fed than most. He was clearly a hunter of some kind, as he carried a brace of dead nugs over his shoulder and empty traps were tied to his hip. At first, he walked past us, barely giving us a glance and being so unremarkable that I had barely registered his presence. Until he marched back, head cocked, looking at me like I was a circus attraction. I narrowed my eyes at the man, used by the stares at this point but not willing to be regarded in such a way.

My companions noticed the man quickly, and we all watched in hostile wonderment. He paid the others no mind, his attention locked onto me. It was disturbing to say the least.

"Is there a problem?" asked Julie.

"You..." he said pointing at me, his face displaying shock, "You killed the dragon!"

I realised who he was instantly. My hearing at the _grand-parlement_ mentioned a huntsman, who had witnessed the events of the day from the woods. The man who had fetched Goldie and his lackey bastards. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that I would meet him. I felt my face curl with anger. I had found the lying rat. I considered shooting him on the spot, as he shook with anxiety or shock, but realised it was a bad idea. It would be too loud and would blow my cover. Besides, I wanted a little chat about a few things.

"You're supposed to be in prison!" the huntsman continued, "How are you here?!"

He stepped back. I could tell he was going to run. I wasn't the only one. All three of us got up slowly, ready to pounce. Unfortunately, he was faster. He started off into a sprint before we could react, the crowd parting neatly as he shouted for them to get out of the way. More fortunately for us, he didn't bother trying to slip down any side streets, instead running in a straight line along the docks. My stomach dropped, as I realised he would bring the garrison down on our heads.

"Tam," I said, calling on the only other person present who could stop him at this range. Quietly, at any rate.

The Qunari quickly snatched up her longbow, and nocked an arrow. It hissed as it left its perch, flying straight through the air at the rat bastard in question. The shot caught him dead on the left part of his back, the black fletch of the shaft sticking out. He spun and fell, revealing that the arrow had gone clean through him, the barbed point protruding from his chest.

The street fell deathly quiet, as all eyes turned to us. I didn't care. I needed to speak to him.

"Royal business!" I roared, pointing at my beret, "Nothing to see here, move along or face severe punishment!"

Eyes promptly averted themselves again quickly, as Tam nocked another arrow and Julie recovered her axe from the wagon. I wasn't surprised that my display had worked, as I was sure that word had gone around that a noble was about, but I was surprised at how quickly things had gone back to normal. The instinct of a commoner in the face of a royal officer, I guess. I bid the two ladies to stay by the wagon, as I jogged to the huntsman.

I found him still alive, though he would not remain so for much longer. I tweaked the arrow a little, and he shouted with pain. Just so we understood where each other stood.

"Why did you lie?" I growled, as some others stopped to stare, "What did you get out of it, you stupid fuck?"

"H-how are you still alive?" he moaned. I kicked him for good measure, and he doubled over with pain, rolling slightly. It revealed his leather bag. I grabbed it quickly, and found what I had suspected. The dragon's teeth, supposedly worth a small fortune, if my captors' speeches were any judgment. He had traded me to Goldie for money, and the noble expected to get favour at court for his trouble. What little iota of mercy I had for the man disappeared in an instant, but my mood improved greatly from having what was taken from me back.

"Well, well, looks like it isn't all bad," I said, menacingly, "Just one thing."

I gripped Tam's arrow and ripped it out of his flesh roughly, making the already devastating wound even worse. I fiddled with the black arrow between my fingers as the huntsman began to weaken. I leaned my full weight on his knee with my boot to get his attention again.

"That was for trying to sell me like cattle," I said, "I hope in the next life, you understand that what goes around comes around."

I stepped off of him and walked back to the wagon, the audience dispersing again and avoiding my glances. My fears of an angry mob or a group of guardsmen showing up had failed to materialise thus far, but I had no intention of sticking around. Both Julie and Tam were clearly ready to leave too, both of them wary of anyone walking nearby. Thankfully neither had any problem with me demanding the man's life, and how could they have? I was no more guilty than they were, or at least Tam was. The man had sold me out for some benefit, that much was obvious.

"Can we get out of here?" asked Julie, "We've drawn too much attention."

"Agreed," I said, "Let's get loverboy out of that room, and go pay the stablemaster."

 


	19. Feudal Feuds I

Armen emerged from the storeroom of the riverside tavern; a very satisfied look on his face, two barrels of ale under his arms, and his robes in slight disarray. The waitress exited afterwards, giving me a slight bow with an embarrassed smile and a blush, before scurrying off behind the bar. Again with the assumption that I am a noble, though it was deliberately cultivated in this case. I waved her off as she left, before curling my finger at our resident mage to approach.

"Trouble?" he said, as if the prospect meant absolutely nothing to him at all. He might as well have just held up a sign saying 'Doesn't matter, had sex' in big block letters across his chest. If it wasn't for the undoubtedly delicious ale, I would have punched him. Only half-jokingly, but still so he could have felt it.

"You could say that," said Tam out of the side of her mouth, her bow still at the ready for a draw, if required. There weren't any signs of armed troops, but she never was one to take chances.

"We ran into an acquaintance," Julie explained, "He recognised Sam, tried to run. Tam shot him."

"Then why aren't we being swarmed by the militia right now?" Armen asked, "Even I know that killing someone in the street doesn't tend to be welcome, Circle-raised or not." He finally started looking around for combatants. I sighed, glad at least that he had begun to think of it in terms of danger rather than humour.

"I shouted that it was royal business, bought us some time," I said, "But probably not a lot of it, so hurry the hell up before someone decides that challenging us is a good idea."

"Somehow, I do not think they are going to do _that_ ," chuckled Armen, pointing as us as the reason why, "But I get your point. Let's go get the horses."

"No, you stay by the wagon," I stated firmly, "You're the only one of us that isn't involved in this as far as anyone else knows. If we're captured before we get back, you need to get it somewhere safe and come rescue us."

I wasn't sure if I could trust him not to take the firelances straight to the Rebellion if that eventuality did come to pass, but I didn't have much choice. Someone needed to guard the otherworld technology, and taking Armen to the stables didn't seem like a wise idea. The mage took the order gracefully, at least. Probably because he could continue talking with the waitress that way.

Tam undid the restraints of our horse, a black destrier which I had named Fritz. He was a warhorse, this much was obvious to even my untrained eye. As to why he was pulling a cart, I had yet to get around to asking Armen about that. He responded to the question later with his usual amused reticence, refusing to say a word about anything related to his rebel activities.

Alas, the beautiful Qunari led the handsome horse onwards, turning heads as she did so, while Julie and myself lurked behind unnoticed for once. Though it's hardly a feat to be noticed when a woman is taller than everyone else, has clearly visible horns and she is almost half-naked from the waist upwards. More male heads turned with certainty, albeit not by a great degree. They tended to shy away again when the longbow and dagger finally crossed their attention though. The rumours had already spread.

Thanks to the distraction, we made good time to the stables, finding them in the same state of busy work that they were in when we had first arrived. Stablehands were wandering around, some cleaning the ground with brushes, others going about the place with buckets of feed. The stablemaster was sat exactly where we had left him, writing at his desk beneath the roof of the stable at the far end. He looked a little more worn out, which didn't surprise me at all, given all the shouting he had been doing before. We approached casually, Tam moving to the back to let us do the talking.

_Monsieur_ deSelle took a moment to notice us, scribbling furiously with his feather on a piece of parchment, a stack of them sitting beside him along with a mug. His eyes rose without his face moving, before returning for a moment to the papers. He double-taked quickly.

"Ah, _Ser_ Bonaparte," he said quickly, "You are just in time."

"Well, I thought it best," I said, "No need to clutter up your stables with my new property a minute longer than necessary." No need to hang around and get caught out by lawmen either. Or worse.

"I appreciate your consideration," he replied, "Is this your horse?"

"It is," replied Tam in my place. I winced, as the stablemaster's attention was dragged by the scruff of the neck to the Qunari. His gaze took in every aspect of her, positively drinking it in through his eyeballs. He turned to me with a shake of the head, as if he knew what sort of man I was and was exasperated by it. Not the last such assumption, which only got worse as time went on and relationships developed. I still get criticism today, from those who do not understand or don't care to. Not giving a genuine solid figurative one for such talk has reaped great dividends, at least.

"This is Tam, my personal bodyguard," I said, thinking mercenary to be too impersonal a title for my new friend. Never liked mercenaries anyway. Unfortunately, my choice of words added to his impression of Tam as a whore, ranked below Julie as some kind of exotic toy.

"A Qunari, I see. I bet she is _personal_ ," he grunted, "Do bodyguards usually dress like concubines? Are the weapons part of the fetish?" If I could have had the time to groan, I would have groaned. Irony is that I share his distaste for the sort of man who would parade around with bought women. If his assumption was not so wide off the mark, we probably could have been a lot more friendly. Instead, the inevitable happened.

Tam's wicked curved dagger leapt from its scabbard almost of its own volition, and she stepped forward to prove it wasn't just an implement for my personal amusement. Sensing the immense bloodshed to come, I put myself in front of her quickly, a pace or two from the desk. I intercepted her focus on her target, and lightly put my hand on her right forearm, inches away from the blade. Her violet eyes softened, and to my relief, the dagger slipped back to its place on her hip. I could tell she was on the very edge of her restraint, so I turned around to deal with the cause.

"That's twice you've insulted people close to me," I said to the stablemaster, "If you think it's amusing a third time, I'll have you step outside to answer for your words." It sounded like something a noble would say in such a situation, or what I thought one would say. Have to admit I enjoyed the delivery as well. I didn't get to defend the honour of beautiful women in this way often, though to be frank, they could defend their own honour with complete lethality. Letting them at him didn't fit the whole 'hiding in plain sight' gig we had going though, so it was still best to handle it this way.

Unfortunately, our ruse had been seen through and my enjoyment disappeared instantly.

"Still acting the noble, I see," said deSelle with a sly tone, "Perhaps I should fetch the magistrate. They flay people pretending to be nobles here. After that display on the main street earlier, I think you should be more careful about who you threaten."

My heart immediately dropped like a stone with the shock. I should have known he had eyes everywhere. After all, he had no shortage of minions going about business, it made sense that his reach extended past his own gates. While I stood contemplating what to do, weighing the options, one of my companions had already decided. Julie unslung the axe she had picked off the bandit chief's corpse and leaned on the pommel.

"How will you fetch the magistrate without a head?" she growled, "How will they arrest us without arms or legs?" A woman determined to never see the inside of a prison cell again, and with determination like that, I suppose telling you that she never did is probably redundant. There was a bizarre exception, but that involves nonsense resulting in the crucifixion of a Tevinter magister.

Regardless, the sentiment was a little troublesome. Unlike the huntsman in the street, killing a prominent merchant wouldn't be waved off at the mention of royalty. The stablemaster knew this too. "How will you escape with half of the garrison of the Dales looking for you?" he said, "Where will you hide?"

"Who says we need to hide?" asked Tam, her lethal smile appearing at last, "We hold the advantage here." Her dagger was out again, though it was held in a leisurely manner, like she was about to strip an animal for the cooking-spit rather than kill a man in a fight. She was quite obviously referring to my weapons, though the target didn't know it.

"I knew there was something off about you," deSelle continued, "The garb itself was strange enough, but your manners towards your mistress... I had you watched, and you did not disappoint. Giving custom to a _paysan_ tavern barely fit for a dockhand? Killing a man in the street? Declaring it all to be royal business... The reward for bringing you in would be magnificent."

I didn't buy a word of his bravado. He thought he was smart, but he had no idea what he was dealing with.

"The last man to think that betraying me for money was a good idea is dead in the gutter less than four blocks away," I replied, "Perhaps it is better if we both conclude our business, and never speak of this again." Not sure if he understood what a block was, and I remember doubting it at the time, but he just rolled with it. Strange what you think of under pressure.

"What do I get out of that course of action?" he said, "Don't think it will be so easy to kill me before the guards arrive." There was a grain of truth in that, but I had discovered his vices. One was the same as the huntsman's failing. The other was something that fellow was incapable of.

"How about the satisfaction of a fair deal?" I said, "And if you think I'll try and kill you before the guards arrive, you're mistaken. No, I think every animal and stablehand I can find might produce more results. Perhaps I'll burn your precious stables to the ground. There must be something or someone here that you care about more than gold or your ego."

Pride and Greed, two deadly sins without mercy on those who are possessed by them. So easily exploited. Their demon counterparts are sons of bitches too, even for someone with my capabilities. The stablemaster's face sunk immediately. He knew I had him cold. Either the cost of having his entire business destroyed wouldn't be covered by the reward for helping to stop me, or he had more than a few blood relations running around.

My bet was on both, or rather, my bluff. I had no intention of killing any civilians, or putting them in danger by burning things. Apart from being against my oath to defend laws, I am not a murderer. I might have shot a few horses, if it came to it, and I had no qualms about shooting a magistrate, a servant of the foul government that I had plenty of reason to despise. DeSelle and his people were off the kill-list unless he attacked, but he didn't need to know that. The man himself stood up, and called a minion over, waiting while staring directly at me.

"Bring the two packhorses we prepared to the yard, Ser Bonaparte is ready to receive them," the stablemaster said to the young boy that arrived, "Hurry!" Apparently, he had been bluffing too, or was eager to play his threats off as a bluff in the name of preserving his livelihood. The hand ran off to do as he was told, while his boss turned around and grabbed a saddle from a table where many lay. He dumped it on the table roughly. Tam collected it, and went to place it on Fritz's back.

"Your payment," said Julie, slapping a number of gold and silver coins down on the table with one hand, hefting her axe over her shoulder with the other. It was slightly more than we had agreed upon, the intention there being easy to see. DeSelle seemed to cheer up a little when he realised the count was a little high, and nodded his understanding.

"I'm sorry we couldn't get along," I said, more or less sincerely, "But I swear, if anyone comes looking for me, you will regret it. Don't try and be smart, I am smarter. Enjoy the bonus." Always helps to add the threat of the stick when you're handing over a carrot, something I had learned long before ever coming to Thedas. The man's face was unreadable unlike before, not even his eyes gave away his true feelings on the matter. I interpreted it as defiance, but I would be proven wrong on that count.

DeSelle's subordinate brought the two packhorses along by the reins, two brown horses that were pretty much identical to each other. They both had feedpacks and some straps for attaching them to the wagon as well, as agreed. Julie took them, patting them both on the nose a little, which they seemed to like. Both the stablemaster and myself watched, as she pulled them onwards. Ignoring the both of us, she led them towards the entrance.

"They look like they could pull twice as much weight as they're going to," I said, conceding that the man was at least good as his job.

"I do what I'm paid for," he said, "Unlike you noble types."

"I thought I wasn't a noble?" I asked.

"You're not an Orlesian noble, but you're definitely an _aristo_ of some kind," he replied, sitting down again, "My guess would be a Fereldan's second son from somewhere near Orzammar, from the accent." Little did I know that the shortened word for an aristocrat literally meant a noble who gathered up men and women with offers of patronage for the purposes of sex. Which in retrospect seems almost prophetic, if you drop the malicious intent and solicitation. Julie had used the word as an insult too, so I knew that much. However, I wasn't savvy about the slang of the country, so I just shook my head in amusement.

"I don't even know what a... Fereldan is," I stated flatly. I thought it was a rank, if I recall correctly. Orzammar I correctly guessed as a place. Never did get to visit there, come to think of it. They really don't like me these days, so I guess I never will get to either. But when you oppose caste nonsense at every turn, things tend to get heated.

"As you say, Bonaparte," deSelle replied, his voice lowering slightly as his doubts rose. Orlais really is exceedingly French. Make of that statement what you will.

I would have been eager to retort, but Tam decided to mount Fritz. The warhorse trotted around happily, with interesting effects on her person, but intriguing me in another way as well. Horse archery has a pretty golden reputation on Earth, the result of a series of highly successful invasions by plains people, and I found myself wondering if she had practice with that sort of thing. The sight was entrancing too. Before I could vocalise the question, she urged me to follow and the horse galloped across the yard to join Julie with the packhorses.

"Goodbye, _Monsieur_ deSelle," I said, marching away without waiting for a reply.

* * *

Armen was chatting with his … lover, who was a little despondent. He had told her that we would be leaving, and to be honest, he looked a little depressed too. Perhaps weary is a better term. I was a little surprised, but I should not have been. He had been on the run longer than we had, the moment we had stolen 'his' cart from the avenue in Halamshiral was just another stage in his flight. No doubt he spent all of his time before meeting us on business for the Rebellion. So, without knowing it, I had actually witnessed his first moment of personal liberty. I thought he spent it quite well, both then and now.

Of course, the sight of Tam riding up diverted his attentions, and his paramour's too. She addressed him.

"It's time," she said, before wheeling Fritz out of the way for Julie to bring the packhorses to the wagon's front end. She made her way down the street, her eyes vigilant for any sign of trouble.

Armen stepped towards the waitress to allow them to pass, and I caught a little of his conversation as I passed to help. It wasn't a tearful moment, but there was definitely a sad tone. Her name was Ciara, not a very Orlesian name, but apparently a relatively elvish one. He promised to visit again when we had settled, as myself and Julie finally got the packhorses attached. I didn't view that idea as wise, but said nothing.

Julie and I exchanged a look as we were climbing onto the seats at the front of the wagon. She wanted to take the girl with us, was what she was trying to convey to me with it. I sat down on the wagon's bench and sighed, before consenting with a shrug. My companion smiled at me, melting my resolve further. I turned in my seat and cleared my throat, getting the attention of the two elves.

"You know, you could come with us, if you wanted to?" I said, speaking to Ciara with a grin. Armen looked at me like I was mad, but also with no small degree of happiness. Which was amusing enough to make the whole proposal worth it, I thought. She herself seemed torn, rubbing her hands together and lowering her head.

"It would be dangerous, but you could get away from here forever," added Armen, knowing something I didn't. As usual.

"Service to a noble might not be better," she said to Armen, "You're a … scholar. I'm nobody." Her accent was revealed in full, and it was bizarre. There were several parallels I could compare it to from my world; Irish, Welsh, Scottish to anyone who can understand what that means, but it was surprising. The few words she had spoken in my presence before then had been neutral.

"This man is unlike any noble you've ever heard of, trust me," smiled Armen, "He won't force you to do anything against your will." The last sentence wasn't meant as a threat, but I took it as such. There was definitely some backstory I was missing, but it seemed inappropriate to pry. It couldn't be as big as whatever Armen himself was hiding, that was for sure. Never did ask, and what little detail they betrayed in conversation is barely worth mention.

Ciara turned to me, as if looking for confirmation. Julie nudged me from behind, for encouragement. It was at that moment that I had a pretty damn good idea, if I do say so myself.

"Samuel Hunt, Marquis de LaFayette," I said, standing up on the wagon and bowing to her, "At your service, _madame_. We are in a hurry, so if you'd get your things, I'd be thankful." The now-former waitress blinked rapidly for a moment, before smiling and running off to find something to bring.

I chuckled a little, before sitting down again. LaFayette was a famous figure from Earth, in case you were wondering. If you're reading this, chances are there is a book about him somewhere in the vicinity. Otherwise, you'll recognise it from events here on Thedas.

As you can probably tell, I had decided to embrace my supposed image as a noble entirely. It was a problem that wasn't going to go away, I could tell, and there was little point correcting every fool who made the mistake. Better to use it to my advantage entirely. It would require more finesse than I had displayed until that point, but I was pretty confident I could pull it off. After all, I had Goldie and Red Mask as examples to draw from.

As Ciara returned with no small amount of baggage and began climbing onto the wagon, Tam returned on top of Fritz.

"Who's this?" she asked, before recognising our new traveller, "Ah, I see."

I held my breath for the objection, but it never came. She simply turned the horse and stopped, beside me. Over the sounds of Armen and Ciara getting onto the back of the wagon on top of the boxes, the Qunari leaned in to whisper to Julie and I.

"Nobles up ahead, with men-at-arms," she said, "Perhaps we should go around?"

I frowned and put my face in my palms, letting out an exasperated hiss through my teeth in frustration. Everywhere I looked, there seemed to be more bastards to get in my way. It was getting beyond irritating, edging on infuriating. I straightened up, and made my resolution.

"No, we go straight through like nothing is wrong," I said quietly, "We need to know if we're being hunted, this is the best way."

"And if they attack?" asked Julie.

"Then so do we," I replied, "Tam, don't so much as give them a look when you pass."

The horserider grinned and nodded, well aware of the reputation of her people. I hoped that she'd just look like a mercenary to anyone else. I readied my firelance to fire and set it across my thighs, ready to snatch it up and flip the safety catch off at a moment's notice.

Julie snapped the reins, and the two packhorses began pulling. Our investment had been worth every penny, we soon discovered, as they pulled the weight of the wagon and its cargo along at a very satisfactory pace indeed, though it was still slower than before we had picked up my cache. Tam went out in front, clearing the way very effectively for our passage. Other carts and wagons made way before her. I'm sure we made quite a sight as we left.

We passed the spot where the huntsman lay, his body being attended to by a priestess of some kind. Her robes were white and red, and her tall hat extended past the back of her head. I remember thinking it appropriate that the clergy of a religion with a female saviour were female themselves. This idea passed quickly, as the priestess noticed Tam, longbow and black arrows in clear sight. The woman opened her mouth, most likely to shout and condemn, but we came into sight at the same moment. Her jaw closed itself slowly, as her eyes remained transfixed to me. I inclined my head respectfully, and we moved along without issue.

We finally reached the bridge about five minutes later, which as you can imagine was what gave Gethran's Crossing its name. It was an elegant structure arching over the river enough for flat-bottomed barges to go through three-abreast if required. How it managed to stand that high without supporting arches or suspension wires, I don't know, but it was damn cool to look at. It seemed elvish to me, and I was right. I gawked at it as we approached, almost missing the large crowd of armed people beside.

I noticed them due to the sun flashing off the mask of one of the chevaliers, who was in the midst of mounting his own horse with the help of some poor fool kneeling so he could step up. His mask was silver inlaid with a yellow and black striped rim, which couldn't have been comfortable even though the heat had dropped off in the afternoon. With him were a crowd of men in chainmail covered with blue, armed mostly with swords but with a few wooden crossbows and spears among the bunch. There had to be at least forty of them, and another masked individual on horseback as well.

The finely enamelled image of a perfect face followed Tam first, and she did as she was told, keeping bolt straight in the saddle and her head pointed directly ahead. Once the Qunari had got onto the bridge itself, the chevalier looked at me just as we were right beside each other. I could see his eyes through the mask, and they were narrowed. He found us suspicious, which he can hardly be blamed for, as we were suspicious. However, as we passed, he did nothing. We soon got over the sharp incline of the bridge and disappeared from their sight.

I breathed a sigh of relief. Every fibre of my being thought that an attack would be ordered.

"I guess that word of our escape hasn't got out," said Julie softly, "Perhaps they think we're dead."

"We can hope," I replied, "But we can't take any chances."

* * *

We travelled quietly for about four more hours, through the same sort of countryside that we had seen on the approach to the village. Farmlands, hedges, peasants and livestock. All flat land, with few places to hide. I had quietly been searching our surroundings for a defensible position as we travelled, but had found nothing until that point, filling the time with small talk with Julie about my world and what she had read in the books we had recovered from the helicopter.

"What should we call these horses?" she said, suddenly veering off the topic.

"Huh?" I said, not quite following her. As she had changed so suddenly.

"These two," she said, before pointing between the warhorse and the packhorses, "You named _that_ one Fritz, what should we call _them_?"

I thought about it for a moment, leaning back against the bench and the boxes behind it, before coming to two possibilities which I felt were appropriate.

"Well, this one is definitely lucky, so it should be called Lucky," I said, pointing to the horse on the left, "He passed by that noble without giving anything away, so it's a good omen."

Julie grimaced as she thought about it, before smiling.

"That works," she declared, "What about the other one?"

"Bob," I said immediately.

"Bob?" she asked back, her own accent lengthening the 'o' in a funny way. It was cute.

"Yeah, Bob," I continued, "Definitely the right name."

"Why?" Julie said.

"Looks like a Bob," I replied.

Julie started into a soft laughing fit, as I tucked my hands back and enjoyed the show. The joke being that Bob was identical to Lucky in every respect. It was another one of my crappy jokes, but she didn't seem to mind. A startled Tam turned around in the saddle to look back, and the two elves in the back leaned over the box dividing the front from the back to see. Her laughing died down after a little while.

"Ah Sam, you are funny for trying to be funny," said Julie, taking a breath.

"I do try," I replied, frowning.

Tam cursed a little in her mother tongue, turning the horse.

"Sometimes, I do not know if you are both crazy," she said, drawing up alongside.

"They are almost certainly mad," said Armen, "But so are you." Hit the nail on the head there. In my opinion. Not that he's exempt from scrutiny, but he was definitely the most level-headed of us.

"What sort of noble are you?" said Ciara, suddenly, "Are you a noble at all?" Nope, sorry. Not a drop of noble blood in my veins from either world. Just like almost everyone else.

"It's complicated," I replied, "But you can probably tell that I'm not from Orlais."

"You sound like a dwarf," she said plainly, "But you seem like a noble until you speak to either of them." She pointed at Julie and Tam.

Well of course I spoke to them differently. We had gone through a fairly dangerous prison break together, after all. I admired them both, albeit in different respects. Tam was still too terrifying at this point, despite her quirks. There wasn't any real way to convey this in real terms however, so I made the other point that was on my mind.

"I am really looking forward to meeting a dwarf," I mused, "It's driving me a little crazy that people keep saying I sound like one and I have no idea what they mean."

"Have you never met a dwarf before?" Ciara asked, her confusion growing.

"No, I have not," I said.

"You must be from very far away then," she said, "They trade everywhere I've heard of."

"Far away doesn't even begin to describe just how far my homeland is," I said with a smile, "Not to worry though, I'm hoping to go back soon."

" _We're_ going with him," added Tam, for good measure. Her distrust of Armen had not lessened, I could tell. Ciara nodded and looked thoughtful, then moved to the back of the wagon out of my sight. Armen leaned forwards over the bench, holding himself up on his palms to talk discreetly.

"...You're not going to tell her..." he started.

"She's going to find out soon anyway," I stated.

"Why's that?" Julie asked.

"Because I'm willing to bet everything I have on that chevalier and his little army coming to find us," I said, "I don't think we're going to be able to avoid using some Earth magic."

 


	20. Feudal Feuds II

In the evening, the heat broke and not a minute too soon. Soon after the conversation with Armen, I spotted a good place to hole up for the night. A decent sized hill with plenty of trees on it, flanked by the river and the road. It even had a path running up its side, worn down by people climbing it. With some difficulty, we managed to get the wagon to the top. With more than a little heaving from Tam, Julie and myself. No offence to Armen or Ciara, but it didn't look like either of them were good for pushing. Once that was done, there was little time for rest, even for my new elven friends.

"Why are we digging holes again?" asked Julie, as she threw a clod of dirt in front of her with the entrenching tool I had given her for the job.

"Foxholes," I corrected, copying her motion.

"Why are we digging foxholes?" asked Tam from behind me, patting down the mud in front of her as I had instructed. She was making better progress than anyone, but then, she had better endurance than any of us and could work faster.

"Why are we collecting stones?" said Armen, dumping a bunch of rocks down, "It's getting dark."

"Which is why we need to finish this quickly," I said.

"It would be easier if you just told us," Julie said, irritation growing in her voice, "We're not stupid, you know?" I had thought that the opposite would be true. We didn't really have time for a round of questions, and my apprehension about the coming fight had just grown and grown with every passing minute. The reason for which I decided to reveal, in the hope that they'd quit bitching about my bizarre orders and just follow them. I did tend to forget they were civilians rather than squadmates. So, I waited until Armen and Ciara were out of earshot and spoke to the others.

"Okay, fine," I said, "That group back in town had a bunch of crossbows, and since we don't have any shields, I was thinking that if we're going to be shot at, we should have a little something to hide in." Also might help with shrapnel.

"Why bother?" asked Tam, "The saarebas and you can kill them all before they even see us from a distance."

"We're trying to avoid more trouble," I said, "Besides, having Armen use magic will definitely bring Templar attention down on our heads." Not to mention I was entirely unsure if the mage wanted to reveal his true nature to his new charge yet. Even Julie regarded him with suspicion, it was hard to imagine that Ciara would be immediately accepting.

"So will your firelance," said Julie, digging as she talked, "I read your documents, remember? They think it is magic."

"They're more likely to send a group to investigate, because it's something they've never seen before," I replied, "They won't send numbers we can't deal with. They might even dismiss what they hear about my weapons as rumour designed to distract them from the Rebellion." I was entirely wrong with that prediction, as you will see. Probably because of how I chose to deal with this situation, now that I really think about it.

"That's true," said Armen as he returned alone, only catching my last few sentences, "The mages are still in the Circles. Those that are outside are coordinated by those hiding at Andoral's Reach, far to the north. They can't afford to strip away forces from Val Royeaux, even with what you did at Halamshiral."

"So you're good to go?" I asked, clearing the bottom of my foxhole with my foot and then shovelling the detris out.

The mage frowned at me, like the question was a bad vegetable he had to eat. Which answered my question about whether or not he was conflicted about his magical skill, and whether or not to reveal it. I continued working while he looked off into the distance.

"Yes," he said finally, "If you're going to trust me, help my cause, I cannot abandon you to fight alone here." Well said, I think.

"We might not need you to do anything," I replied, "I have an ace up my sleeve for those assholes."

"Ace up your sleeve?" asked Armen, his smile returned.

"It's part of a card game," I said, "Actually, I think I might have a deck."

Some talk about poker ensued afterwards, as I conscripted Armen and a returned Ciara to the digging duties. The soil was soft, like that of the crash-site, so it was quick going. We had two foxholes big enough to fit three people a piece done in no time at all, the sections facing the hillside and path protected by the dirt we had dug up and lined with the stones. I augmented the whole thing with a few small shrubs I pulled out of the ground, so they wouldn't be able to spot the arrangement so easily. In other words, perfect cover from a bunch of peasant crossbowmen trying to kill us.

After that, I explained the plan, which caused a lot of consternation about whether or not it would work, and got everyone something to eat out of the ration packs while I went about laying down the last preparations. It was possibly dangerous work, so I didn't want the others interfering. When that was done with, I returned and opened up some of the boxes. It was time to get downright diabolical.

"Alright, gather around," I said to them, as they munched on more of my crackers. They obeyed, standing up from the circle they had made for a fire, which they had not lit yet on my order. I picked a piece of body armour and held it out.

"This is armour from my country... well, actually, it's from Israel, but whatever, take it," I said, "It'll stop a crossbow bolt easy, even up close."

Tam stepped forward and took the vest, feeling the inside of it for a moment. Her eyes widened. My eyebrow crept upward.

"It feels like vitaar flesh," she said, surprised.

"Vee-tar?" I asked, "Is that some sort of animal?"

"No, it is warpaint," Tam replied, putting on my gift and strapping herself up, "A potent poison mixed with the blood of the user, and then painted onto the skin of a Qunari. It turns into what you might call ironflesh." That right there is commitment to cause, ladies and gentlemen. Tam later informed me of the side effects, particularly if you left it on too long. Permanent scarring being the more cosmetic of them, and indeed many Qunari warriors have such scars. It's just hard to notice them as many keep the patterns they use the same over the course of their often short lives. The smart or important ones keep away from the side effects.

"Wait, warpaint..." I said, "Is that the paint you have in your pack?!"

"Yes, I was able to bring some of the basic ingredients with me when I escaped," said Tam.

"What does it do to non-Qunari?" I asked.

"Death, sometimes slow and agonising, sometimes in minutes. It depends, really," she replied, not particularly bothered by the prospect, "Do you have a helmet like yours too?"

I was speechless. Back in the prison storage room, I had opened up the chest containing Tam's effects and found the large paint pot more than a little interesting. To think that I could have died if I had investigated a little further than I had... God was smiling on me that day with more than the escape, apparently.

Shaking myself out of the idea of dying like that, I handed the Qunari a helmet like she asked. I thought the horns would get in the way, but they were small enough to tuck in at the back. Not many Qunari could have, but Tam was unusual in more ways than one.

"It isn't the finest silk, but it will do," said Julie, as she collected her armour, "I guess we aren't going to get a private moment any time soon, are we?"

"Not likely," I replied sadly.

"Well, we'll get home quickly," she said, "It is not good there either, but there is at least some privacy."

"I hope," I replied with a smile. Though I doubted we would get privacy. Julie didn't strike me as a loner. No doubt there would be questions about the newcomers arriving home with her, and not only from people she was friendly with.

Armen and Ciara took the armour with a great deal more enthusiasm, probably because neither were real brawlers at any point in their lives. The lack of huge amounts of metal also turned out to be a good thing for our mage, as he could still wear the armour without it affecting his magic apparently. He thanked me as such. So the entire band looked positively weird, even to my eye. Sand-coloured 'cloth' armour and big round helmets, at night, in the middle of a forest. I could only imagine what it would look like to some poor peasant or to a chevalier, but I hoped they would think it ridiculous enough to charge recklessly.

Satisfied that we were ready, we all got into the foxholes with weapons and sleeping bags, turned on our radio headsets to communicate, and had some more of the food to wait for the inevitable. Tam and Julie were in my trench, the larger of the two with enough room for the former to stand up and shoot her bow over the top with no problem. I left Ciara and Armen to the second one, which was further back. Perhaps that was a bad idea, as they soon turned off their radios and began what healthy adults do when isolated together. I rather kindly put it down to nerves and let them be. I was a little busy fixing a heat-sight device to my helmet.

* * *

After a while, we sat quietly with nothing but the sounds of the forest at night and the thankfully very muted tones from the other trench. It had gotten darker, though it was still light enough that any passerby on the road could look up to see our wagon and our well-secured horses. I was hoping it would get completely dark before the nobles could find us, if they were searching at all. They would then have to travel by torchlight, which is like holding up a big sign saying 'Please Kill Me' when you're packing the sort of weaponry I was. Still, I watched along the road we came from with both my own eyes and the technology at my disposal, and no marching soldiers came.

"Are you absolutely sure they are coming?" asked Julie, out of the blue.

"No," I said, "But the look in that masked guy's eyes when we passed... he absolutely investigated who we were once we were gone, and if I was in his position, I would chase us."

"Do you think the stablemaster betrayed us?" asked Tam. The consequences of which for the man in question were written all over her tone, and I very much shared the sentiment.

"If he did, we'll find out soon enough," I replied, "I gave him a false name."

"But we have time," Julie said, "There are a lot of them, so they'll move slowly, right?"

"Yes..." I said, not knowing where she was going with it, "So what?"

She got comfortable before she continued, "Perhaps we should seize the moment."

"How?" I asked, naively.

Julie raised an eyebrow suggestively, and moved closer. I had to restrain myself from bursting out laughing. What a wonderfully absurd idea.

"There are people trying to kill us right now," I said, incredulous, "Besides, we're not alone."

I pointed to the third person in the trench. Tam was sat in the corner, longbow and quiver leaning against the side, listening intently with a neutral face. Which should have been a warning sign in its own right, but I was distracted enough to dismiss it as a sign of disinterest in the actual proposal.

"I know, it's a great opportunity," said Julie, glancing at the Qunari, "For all of us."

The intention was clear. This was my first experience with what I suppose you could call Orlesian polyamory, perhaps the only positive thing that emerged from the frankly disturbing attitude in that country about marriage and its purpose. It really sneaked up on me. I moved my jaw to speak a few times, but couldn't vocalise any objections. Because I'm an imbecile.

"Sam, you refused to hurt me when I was most vulnerable, and broke me out of prison. Tam, you killed the gaoler who threatened me, and stopped us from being caught," continued Julie, "You are both important to me now. We have a little time. Let's get closer."

My eyes boggled at the suggestion. "I'm very glad to hear that I matter to you," I said, "But as much as it pains me to say it, maybe this isn't the best moment." Some measure of reason was beginning to reassert itself at this point, as you can probably tell.

"It may be the only moment," said Tam. She shuffled closer too, and my temperature rose.

"Seriously?" I asked her, "You too?"

"To be honest, it's been a while since I've had any such relief," she admitted with a shrug, "We'll see and hear the _bas_ long before they see us, so why not? The mage doesn't seem to care." I got the feeling she was protesting a little too much. She felt affection for us too, but had too much dogma to express it in words yet. I wasn't the only one to notice.

"Perhaps you and I should find another hole in the ground," said Julie to Tam jokingly, "Since we are unwelcome in this one." She took Tam's hand and made to stand up, at which point I grabbed her by a strap on her armour and bade her to sit again. The madamoiselle was always quite skilled at getting what she wanted, and I am a sucker for the guilt trip. I closed my eyes and inclined my head, giving my consent.

Julie tipped her helmet off her head and set it down behind her, letting her brown hair down. Tam followed suit, and the two knelt beside each other. What they did next finally destroyed what little reason I was still operating under. They kissed, holding each other by the hands as they did so.

It was truly beautiful. Not just from the obvious male perspective, though that was a factor, but it felt like a dam had finally broken between us after days of build-up. I knew I felt greater and greater appreciation at having both of them by my side at a time where I was utterly lost. This is probably a biased retelling anyway, considering how important they both became to me. All I know is that by the time they stopped, I was fully under their spell. My worries disappeared.

As if to signal, I whipped my helmet off my head, barely bothering to undo the straps, before putting my gloves and weapon down with it. Julie closed in and our lips met, warming my insides as if I had downed a shot of liquor. All three of us moved still closer, hands and fingers threading each other. Tam kissed our necks as we continued, and before I knew it, I was kissing her too. We all began slowly undoing the buckles of each other's armour and clothing, eager for more. We embraced each other, and placed our lips everywhere it is pleasurable to put them.

Which is to say that it was all entirely genuine.

Many have accused us of malicious intent. That I somehow collected a harem for my personal pleasure, that Julie insinuated herself with us for political gain, or that Tam was a Qunari spy playing us for dupes. Utterly wrong, all of it. If anyone collected us together, it was Julie, not me. If there was anyone who gained in other ways, it wasn't just us. The notion of Tam as a spy is beyond ridiculous, she couldn't lie without giving it away plainly on her face. These insults continue in various forms to the present day, and I have no doubt some will be repeated long after I am dead.

Let the record stand true. All three of us came together out of mutual trust and admiration. Something that had huge consequences for millions of people, possibly hundreds of millions both born and unborn, when the shit really began to happen. Like when the Breach opened. The nature of my immunity to the Fade and the knowledge I had made it inevitable. We were falling for each other, damned cliché as it sounds. I am not sure if we were in love yet, but there was deep affection out of circumstance. Hardship can build trust like no other thing. Add in lust, and you get why we felt the need to indulge each other in this way. It was all something I possibly needed, as the idea of never returning to Earth was eating away at the back of my mind.

The notion of being whisked back to the world of my birth is what keeps me up at night now.

* * *

To return to the story, we were half-undressed and were about to enter the next stage of what was looking like a particularly enjoyable evening when we were interrupted.

Horses neighed loudly at a distance, far enough away not to be our own and close enough to cause alarm. My heart nearly ripped out of my chest with the surprise, and we disentangled ourselves from the sleeping bags and each other with urgency. Clothes, helmets and armour were shoved on as quickly as possible, radios activated, and weapons returned to our hands.

"Son of a bitch, what timing," I said under my breath, before activating my comms, "Armen, are you dressed over there?"

"I never got undressed," he replied, clearly amused at the suggestion. Liar. "Did you hear the horses?"

"Yeah, give me a second," I said. I stood up to look over the edge, and placed the heat-vision device onto the front of my helmet once again. I had two types, one that could see in the dark as if it was still light and one that could see the heat of a person's body, like some animals can. It was the latter I had selected. When I activated it, I cursed loudly at what it revealed. The entire bottom of the hill was filled with the white heat of human bodies, contrasted against the black-grey background of the forest. I could even pick out their armour and weapons, heated by their exertions.

"How many?" asked Tam.

"A hundred at least," I growled, "The bastard went and got a few more friends."

"We can still beat them," said Julie, "We must beat them."

"More meat for the grinder," I said, my tone full of malice, "God help them if they come up the hill at us."

"Shouldn't we try to keep them away?" said Tam. Under normal circumstances, she would be right.

"No, if we're going to fight, they need to think they can come up that path," I said, "No shooting until the fireworks."

"Fireworks?" asked the two of them.

"You'll see," I said, "We're away from a settlement, so I can use my full bag of tricks."

I explained a little more, and we waited another while. A drumbeat sounded, and I returned my attention to the enemies below. They had formed into something like a coherent set of groups, all facing our way. They knew we were possibly hostile, I could tell, and I began to suspect they had sent someone to follow and watch us. They were lined up as if to attack a fortified position. Which was exactly what they would have to do. Either someone had observed our position or commander was very insightful. I never really got the chance to ask.

"You on the hill!" came the call from what could only be an attendant, "Yield in the name of our rightful Emperor, Gaspard de Chalons!"

"Hold on a minute!" I shouted back.

Not a word made sense to me. I could tell that their source of information hadn't been the stablemaster, as they hadn't addressed me as Bonaparte and his offer of surrender definitely assumed I was a noble. The courtroom at Halamshiral had said someone called Celene was Empress. I needed more intelligence on who I was dealing with, if I was going to negotiate. For clarification, I turned to my companions.

"Anyone know who this Gaspard fool is?" I said, "Is he the one chasing us?"

" _Grand-Duke_ Gaspard, cousin to the Empress Celene," Armen replied, "He was robbed of the throne, or so he believes, so he plays the Game against her in the shadows. It's probably one of his vassals." I understood that easily enough.

"Love their titles, don't they?" I grumbled, "Grand-Duke this, Chevalier that." 

"Some say he's building his strength, waiting for the moment to strike," added Julie, "Tax collectors escorted by chevaliers loyal to him arrested me, and they come more regularly than before."

"Great," I said, "Why on Earth are they chasing us?"

"You said you were on royal business, didn't you?" Tam said, warming up her longbow, "They must think that killing or capturing you will help them."

I groaned, annoyed that factional politics was now sending hundreds of soldiers after me. Templar death squads were the worst I thought I would need to handle at the start of the day, so I was pretty depressed by the possibility of larger numbers. I didn't give the tiniest figurative one about who ruled the country, as opposed to the manner in which it was ruled and how safe we were. I had already done enough damage without involving myself in more conflicts.

As if to say hurry up, several crossbow bolts hissed above us, and landed head-first in the ground behind us at our eye-level. Another volley after twenty seconds. Good thing we had dug in.

"I guess that concludes negotiations," I said.

It was a strange thing, being attacked with what I could only think of as an antique weapon. Still, I went straight into a fighting mindset. I had seen what bows could do to animals before, as my countrymen still used them for hunting. No need to become a pincushion.

Very slowly, I peeked over the edge again. Troops were making their way up the path, stumbling on the uneven ground but keeping together nonetheless. Chainmail glowing white with their body heat in my enhanced sight, shields raised to shoulder height. They were all dead, they just didn't realise it yet. I felt a pang of sadness for them, but knew that I could not fail to kill them. They wouldn't lay down their arms, no matter what I said. Terror was required.

"God, I hope this works," I said the two other occupants of the foxhole. They both nodded. I kissed them both for luck, as quickly as I could. "Get ready." I had no idea how many I could kill. In retrospect, I shouldn't have been so worried, but I'm Sam Hunt, not Captain Hindsight. The infantry bumbled up the hill, right into the killzone. I grimaced, and pat Julie on the shoulder.

Julie held the flare gun directly up as I had instructed, and fired the flare into the sky. Searing bright white light filled the hillside, turning it leafy green from the hazy blue-black it had been before. The men-at-arms looked shocked and confused, visibly squinting upwards. The commander atop a horse at the bottom was the same.

"Now Tam!" I commanded.

The Qunari stood up to her full height, shoulders above the parapet, the sand-yellow of her helmet almost glowing in the flare-light. Nocking a black arrow to the black longbow that was as large as she was, she drew it back and tilted back onto her waist slightly. The shot breathed away from the bow, across Tam's thumb and into the air. It sailed above the heads of the troops closing in, causing great worry among them as they ducked and raised their shields to cover their heads. They need not have bothered, they weren't the target.

It was impossible to watch the arrow properly in the night, even with my night-vision devices, but the effect was clear once it landed. It caught the chevalier's horse below the neck at the collar bone, a splatter of warm blood erupting from the skin that almost looked like a flower. The horse reeled from the blow, tossing its rider. It collapsed, landing on top of him. A perfect hit. Tam ducked down as more crossbow bolts came by in response, hastily aimed but still managing to pierce the air where she had stood a fraction of a second earlier. She wasn't smiling.

"Shieldwall!" cried a squire or sergeant. The broken up groups of spearmen began reforming closer together. The advance stopped dead. An apt term.

I lay down my firelance and picked up the first two triggers in both hands.

"FIRE IN THE HOLE!" I roared, before snapping them closed.

The first set of mines went off, shooting tongues of flame and hundreds of metal balls into the front ranks at huge speed. I couldn't help but be reminded of the dragon as it burned and ripped Fraser's men apart. The front soldiers collapsed, those still conscious holding bits of themselves together or twitching violently before going still. Blood spilled everywhere. I turned off the heat-sight device and placed it back in its pouch. Grizzly stuff to watch, and there was more to come.

Waiting for the enemy to recover, I detonated the other set of mines as the survivors backed off. They were angled to catch them from behind. Again, the explosives threw fire and metal at the closed ranks, and again, dozens of men fell. The crossbowmen were almost entirely wiped out. This time, whatever order was being imposed on the troops completely disappeared. Those left either began to run or ducked for cover, eyes wide with fear and confusion. I knew that feeling well.

I snapped the bayonet and flashlight onto the nose of my firelance as the flare's light finally died, and placed the night-vision device onto my helmet. The world turned a sickly green-grey, but I could see again. I took a deep breath, to suppress the fatigue building in my bones. I stepped up, out of the protection of the foxhole. I was sure that I could still be seen, even though the moons were just crescents that night. I whispered to the others to follow, and moved cautiously forward.

I ignored the carnage as best I could, as it would transfix me if I paid any heed to it. Opening me up to be killed by anyone waiting for an opportunity.

A poor idiot rose up from behind a bush and charged me, spear ready and shield raised.

He was a very lucky idiot however, as he had waited until I was just close enough. I took the thrust dead in the chest, easily a lethal blow if I had been wearing what he was. However, I wasn't, so he was actually unlucky. I was in fact wearing something a whole lot better than chainmail. The blow winded me, but I managed to grab his weapon below the head. He immediately let go of it and went to grab a short sword from his belt. I shot him with my firelance as he finally got it out of the scabbard, three bullets easily piercing him. He collapsed to the ground, as my heart began a return to a less feverish pace.

"Come out and throw down your weapons!" I shouted, "You won't be harmed!"

"Is that wise?" asked Tam from a distance, arrow nocked as she stood a little way back.

"Just watch," I replied.

Sure enough, soldiers began to stand up before tossing aside their spears, swords and crossbows, and folding back the hoods of their chainmail. I activated the flashlight on the end of my firelance, which had them flinching, and frogmarched them to the bottom of the hill.

"Kneel, and put your hands on your head," I barked, as Julie covered them with her handcannon, keeping her axe over her shoulder for quick use as well. The prisoners complied, and I made my way to the downed horse. Time to see what our opponent was made of.

The chevalier sighed as I approached, which surprised me. I had half expected him to be cursing me out or calling me a roguish rapscallion. Aristocratic even in defeat. Instead, he seemed to be more aware of just what situation he was in. He lay back on his elbows, leg trapped under his very dead horse, and watched me approach.

"Qunari blackpowder," he said, not an inch of hauteur in his tone, "Most impressive."

"I'm surprised you recognised that wasn't magic," I said, not wishing to reveal anything about my origins, "Pretty impressive too."

He looked up the hill at the mass of dead, bloodied men, and to his troops kneeling before Tam and Julie. I looked him over for a second. Even with his mask on, I could tell he was defeated. Now it was a matter of seeing if he would admit it.

"Are you injured?" I asked, "Is your leg broken?"

"Merely pinned," he replied.

I helped the man drag himself out from under the horse, and he stood unevenly. He reached for his sword immediately, and I took a step back, raising my own weapon. It was unnecessary. He removed his sword and sheathe together, holding it with one hand by his side.

"I am Ser Milo Duval of the Exalted Plains," he said, "Sworn to the true Emperor of Orlais." He awaited my response.

"Samuel Hunt, Marquis de Lafayette," I replied, smiling at the joke.

"Lafayette?" he said, "I am not familiar with it."

"You wouldn't be, it is far to the west over the sea," I said, "I am not in fact a servant of the Empress, as you may have heard." Ser Duval nodded to himself, as if it made sense, glancing at his dead men. His face was covered by the silver mask, but I could tell he knew he had made a massive mistake. It was the way his shoulders slumped slightly as he stood. He was guilty, and I felt sorry for him. My own lies had brought him to this point, after all.

"Very well, Marquis," he said, "I offer you my surrender."

He held up his sword on both of his palms, and lowered his head. I reached out to take it, when a shout came from behind.

A group of three men charged at me, looking like madmen. Their leader wore a mask, this time a dark colour, with a nasty looking mace raised over his head. I turned and shot one of his acolytes with my firelance. Wounds rippled along the man's lower torso, and he dropped. I tweaked my aim to the right, to hit the masked one. I had to raise it to stop hitting the person who intervened.

Ciara, the supposedly quiet and unassuming serving girl, hopped in front of me, still in full kevlar armour. With a small, straight dagger, she ducked under the mace swing that would have flattened her skull had it been unprotected. She stood up almost chest-to-chest with the assailant, and did _something_. It was hard to see in the dark. When she stepped back, my flashlight revealed the damage. Her dagger was bloody and the man dropped his weapon to clutch at his neck. A river of blood was flowing from it. Yeesh.

It was such a sight that I barely registered the third man. Until Julie ran forward and planted her axe in the man's shoulder, collapsing him like a house of cards. He grunted his last breath, and Julie pulled the axe out of him. She could be terrifying at times too. Thedas really is a world where people are somewhat casual about killing, a little too much for my taste. Regardless, she returned to guarding the prisoners after giving a pat on the shoulder, which I have to admit I needed.

"We will talk later," I said firmly to Ciara, before waving her off to return to Armen. The mage emerged from the woods to join the others, having done what he was supposed to; watch and intervene if there were any surprises. Apparently, Ciara was his intervention. With that to deal with later, I turned back to the dazed chevalier.

"Ser Duval of the Exalted Plains, I accept your surrender," I said, before taking the offered sword.

 


	21. The Iron Bull I

There were about forty or so prisoners, including Ser Duval. Dealing with them took hours.

First, we had the wounded brought to Armen for healing. Twenty two of them were what we would call "temporarily combat ineffective" back home, but they were all salvageable. They'd all return to full bodily function in no time. Anyone who had lost a limb or had been hit with more than a glancing blow from the mines was already dead. The mage seemed to have absolutely no problem with displaying his magical talent in front of the prisoners or Ciara, the former requiring his assistance too much to care. The latter apparently had him figured out almost as soon as she had met him, as she didn't react at all when he started the glowing hand routine.

While Armen and Ciara saw to the injured, Julie, Tam and I were busy putting the other prisoners to work. We had them strip the dead of armour and weapons, dividing them into two piles, one for the useful stuff that wasn't too smashed up and one for the shredded items. We had no shortage of chainmail by midnight, that was for sure. Which improved Julie's mood to no end as she plotted to sell it at cut-rate prices when we arrived back in Hearth. Entrepreneur that she is.

I picked up the mace of Dark Mask, as it was the most familiar sort of melee weapon to me. I could use a knife and by extension a short sword, but most of the blades laying about were long, heavier than I was used to. The mace worked because it was pretty much just a metal baton with flanges, and I had trained to use batons extensively for riot control. I added a kite shield with a lion etched onto it as well, for the same reason. Tam had no such issues however, and got herself a fairly substantial one-hander to swing about.

Once all of that was complete, we gathered the bodies and built a large pyre at the roadside. As is traditional under the Andrastian faith, we burned them. Julie sang a chant for the dead, as the flames took the flesh away. She is quite a good singer, but I couldn't stomach sticking around for more than a minute. The smell reminded me too much of Fraser's squad being torched by the fire wyrm. When the embers began to die, I handed one of the casks of ale to the prisoners. They appreciated the gesture, but their eyes were still full of hate. That had me checking my weapons, to be sure I'd be ready if I needed them.

The men-at-arms ate separately, as I invited Duval to eat from the ration packs with Julie and Tam. More of the curried chicken, no less, though we removed it from the containers after cooking it to avoid suspicion. I wanted answers as usual, and a little open bribery never hurt.

"Well then, Ser Milo Duval," I said, "What do you know about me?"

The chevalier had just removed his mask to tuck into his meal, revealing a scarred but kind face and cleanly cut black hair. He looked at me in confusion for a moment.

"What do you mean?" he said.

"Why were you chasing us?" I asked, clarifying in a way that made it clear that I would allow no dodging of the subject, "You didn't come here just to admire Tam or something, what did you want of us?"

"Nothing, at least not originally," Duval replied, "When we heard you were on royal business, and that you killed a man in the street for getting in your way, we assumed you were doing something very important for Celene. Perhaps negotiations with the elves, or something to do with the mages. We intended to stop you, on our way to our true task."

"Bet you didn't expect to lose," Julie said, clearly amused. She hates the whole order of chevaliers, so it was quite like her to make them squirm.

"No, we did not," Duval said sadly, "I fear more will die as a result."

What he meant by that, I did not know, but first I needed to assure him of my neutrality in whatever conflict over the throne of Orlais was brewing. It wasn't open war yet at this stage, that only came nearly a year and a half later, but the pieces were beginning to move into place towards that. Questions about what he was actually doing could come after.

"Well, I am not from Orlais. I do not care about your feuds," I said, "In fact, a chevalier loyal to Celene almost managed to have me executed, so both of your would-be masters are equally and squarely on my shitlist."

"What about the man you killed in the street in her name?" he said, "Was that simply murder?" An unexpected question to say the least. I had no good answer for it. I could hardly tell him the story of the huntsman and Goldie, because that would require telling about the dragon slaying incident. The question of how I killed a dragon would lead straight to my weaponry, which he already thought were of Qunari design. I had no intention of dissuading him of that opinion. My mind raced to come up with a suitable reply, but I was already covered.

"He was an agent of that chevalier," said Tam quickly, "I killed him after he threatened us and stole some valuables." Duval accepted that without further question, sending a shiver down my spine. I had a sneaking idea that this sort of intrigue was a lot more commonplace than I had first thought. Of course, intrigue is the lifeblood of Orlais, and not just among chevaliers.

"Are things so bad here that the subordinates of each side are already attacking each other?" I asked.

"It is a dance before battle, nothing more," Duval said, "Gaspard is a warrior, if something does not happen to put him on the throne within the next few years, he will put himself there by the sword. In the mean time, we dance for position and prestige, on behalf of our betters. I am sorry that you have crossed into this, but you have already proven yourself quite adept at survival, I can see."

That was true only because I had vastly superior weapons, which were in limited supply. I had already used pretty much all of the "Claymore" explosives in destroying Duval's troops, and while I had other types, they were among the most useful. There were any number of occasions later that I would have sold my kidney to have some more. What few I had left came in very handy indeed.

"Your squabbles weaken your country," said Tam. If understatement were a country, Tam would be Empress. Who the hell plots a civil war when another war is already about to start? Orlesian nobility, that's who.

"I know, but squabbles are all that Orlais has now," replied Duval, "This is why I support Gaspard. He would clear away the fat do-nothings that have gotten in the way of Orlais' true glory." I pondered that, as it didn't sound entirely like a bad idea to me. If it could be done without the warring, it was a decent enough cause. Except it wasn't, because it wouldn't stop there.

"He would also invade Ferelden and the Free Marches," rebuked Julie, "Sending us into a bloody war, while the mages create anarchy and the crown does nothing." Her accent was considerably more pronounced while angry, I noticed.

"I thought your friend said you did not have a side," bristled Duval.

"Celene can go to the Void too," Julie growled, "Between the two of them, I wouldn't trust that they could run a brothel, never mind a country. They don't care about anyone but their court." She never was big on the blue bloods, even before she was exposed to Paine and Jefferson.

The chevalier laughed at her assertion, as if it was preposterous. The three of us just looked on, a little startled. I had half-expected him to ask for his sword back so he could duel Julie for the insult, but instead he had a good chuckle. Though I'm not sure one can legally duel a lady who isn't a knight in Orlais. I must ask someone.

"What if I told you that I did care?" he said, with a smile, "And that a threat beyond mere bandits is lurking two days' march from here."

My eyebrow raised at that. Just how damned dangerous was the road south? I'm not sure you can call a country by that title until a person can at least travel unmolested by maniacs and thieves. Otherwise, it is just a tool for thievery itself, albeit on a grander scale. I wasn't the only one with doubts.

"What threat?" scoffed Julie, "Is the pastry supply threatened?" I grinned at that.

"Sylvans," said Duval, "A problem to more than my chef, wouldn't you agree?"

The circle went deathly quite, Julie's face admitting defeat on the matter. Tam's eyes narrowed and she frowned. The mood had gone from heated to ominous in a second, and I was getting rather tired of the bad surprises. The sinking feeling grabbed me and threatened to pull me to the ground.

"What is a sylvan?" I asked wearily.

"You do not have such creatures in the Far West?" Duval responded, quite surprised.

"Not one," I replied, "It's not the only thing we're missing either, I wouldn't think too much about it."

"Sylvan is the elf word for a possessed tree," Tam explained, "They're very dangerous, as they can walk around, attack people and use nature magicks. Usually show up near battlefields, there were a few of them on Seheron."

"There were a lot near here during the Blight," Julie added, with a frown, "I remember the townspeople fighting them off."

"We think these are remnants from the Blight itself," said Duval, "They stand around as trees until something disturbs them. There has been a lot of bandit activity lately, we think someone came across them and drew them towards the south road."

I snorted my amusement. Tree demons? Nonsense, I thought. Even if they were real, how big a threat could they be? The others didn't appreciate my levity, at any rate. Also, if you're wondering why I didn't immediately launch into questions about the Blight, I should probably inform you that "blight" has a different meaning on Earth, referring only to a particular type of famine. No darkspawn, thank God.

"Ents with anger management issues?" I said, "I swear, you are just playing jokes on me now." Another fictional species to fray my nerves. If I could slap Tolkien, I would. Thedas has far too many of that sort.

"Ents? Is this what you call them? They are no joke, Marquis," Duval said sternly, "They are attacking people and caravans on the road." Good use of my rank to disagree with me while seeming polite about it, if I do say so myself.

I frowned at the man. I guess I believed the story, it was somewhat easy to as I had already encountered dragons, elves and a mage. It was the idea of a tree being any threat to a person that was the sticking point. Even if they could move about and grab things, people would be more mobile. Even our overloaded cart should have been able to breeze through without a problem, I thought. And nature magic? What was it going to do, spray me with pollen? I was immune to any such nonsense anyway.

"So, you were going to take your hundred men-at-arms south to face these things," I said, "I presume they're not that easy to kill?"

"We were to meet with a mercenary company, who have more experience with this sort of problem, or so they say," Duval corrected, "Maker only knows if they'll survive now."

I breathed deeply, as the inevitable sense of guilt about it all hit me. Assuming it was all true, it meant that anyone hurt or killed would be my responsibility, because I had already put the troops sent to save them to the sword. The buck would stop with me. The temptation to crack open the Earth liquors rode over me as I came to the inevitable conclusion. Conscience can really put the hurt on you if you're not careful.

"I was going to tie you all up and run as hard as I could away... but this changes things," I sighed, "Assuming your men are willing, we will come with you to stop these … sylvans."

Duval looked genuinely surprised at that, his eyebrows arching and his demeanour softening considerably. He wasn't the only one. Julie stopped eating and glanced over with an inquisitive look. Probably because I had just volunteered her for a dangerous task without asking, and wanted to know why. Or perhaps she thought it was a good idea, but was curious as to my reasoning. Tam wore no expression but watched, which I had learned a few hours before to take as her own sign of interest.

"Look, I can't tell you the whole truth of who I am and where I'm from," I admitted, "But because of what I have done, you can't fight those things and folk are in trouble. I'm not going to have their deaths on my conscience as well as those of your men. So, we go take on these trees, and then we part ways as if we never met."

Duval smiled. "I do not think it will be possible for me to forget that we met. I was rather hoping to ask you about your homeland," he laughed, "You are a bizarre, yet interesting person." Said the man who has to wear a mask in public. He wasn't _that_ ugly.

"I'm a foreigner, of course I am strange to you," I replied, "But if I help you out with this, I expect your discretion."

"Then you shall have it," Duval said, "After all, your friend there killed my half-brother, I owe you a debt."

"Your half-brother?" I said, "Who was that?"

"The one who choked on his own blood," he replied, "He deserved it, very much."

The Great Game of Orlais is truly vicious, although I suppose there could have been more personal circumstances to explain Duval's glee at his sibling's death. I'm fairly sure I would feel more ambiguous about the death of my brother, bastard or not. The man's words reminded me of who I needed to speak to next, of course.

I picked up the man's ornate sword in its scabbard, and handed it back to him. He accepted it graciously, and put it quickly on his belt. We finished our meals, and Ser Duval returned to his troops to deliver the news. As both of them seemed to approve of our new mission, I asked Julie and Tam to set up the sleeping bags on top of the cart, while I went to deal with another problem.

* * *

The sight of the wounded was much improved, I noticed, compared with when we had first moved them to the top of the hill. Open wounds were closed and fresh scars had replaced them. Those who were barely conscious an hour ago were now fully so. So to say I was amazed would be insufficient. The medicines and surgeries of Earth can accomplish many things that magic cannot, but sealing and healing would-be lethal wounds instantly was not among them when I left. I do not doubt that my fellow countrymen have such science now, if they have survived these past decades, but it remains a wonder to me. Armen was sat on top of a rock, resting from the exertion of the process, while Ciara distributed their own waterskins to the patients.

"Now it's my turn to be amazed," I said to him, nodding to the laying men and women, "It would require stitches, pills, and weeks to save them without magic. You've done it in a couple of hours."

"They're not healed yet," Armen replied with a smile, "I must continue to heal them during the night to keep the fevers from killing them, or else they will still die. Not an easy death, either."

I looked again, and he wasn't wrong. Every single one of the formerly injured seemed to be sweating, their faces soaking. It was a sign of infection, and that their bodies were fighting it.

"They're infected," I said, "We need anti-biotics."

"Infected with what?" asked Armen, alarmed.

"Germs, microbes," I replied, "You did clean the wounds, right?"

"As best I could," Armen replied, "That is an usual step though, as it helps with the fevers. What are germs?"

I opened my mouth to answer that question, but closed it again. I came up short on how to explain about infections. The biology books that came with me from Earth helped explain later, but I couldn't just say that tiny little creatures that you can't see cause disease. It's all well-known now, germ theory and that. I just shook my head. I had some anti-biotics on hand from the medical kits, but nowhere near enough for the wounded.

"Never mind," I said, "Just take care of them, we're moving out with the group to fight some trouble down the road."

"Trouble?" Armen asked, "We're going to fight alongside them after they hunted us and tried to kill us?"

"Well, when magical trees are threatening people on the road we need to travel on, it's wise to have a few more bodies to throw at them," I said, "Sylvans, or so I'm told."

"Who told you there were sylvans in our way?" asked Armen harshly.

"Ser Duval of whateveritis," I replied.

"What if he's lying so he can capture us?" the mage said, "There are still forty of them."

"He's afraid of us, and he respects me for taking his surrender. I can see it his eyes," I replied, "And if they turn on us, we can still kill them a lot more easily than they can kill us."

Armen grumbled at that, clearly agreeing that we could indeed lay our guests low with ease, but still unhappy about the arrangement. Afraid they'd call the Templars, if his mumbled words were any evidence. It was a fair thing to be worried about. However, he himself had already said that it would take something major to get the Templars to send any real force to the region, beyond Halamshiral's Circle rebelling like so many others. Besides, I had a feeling Duval was a man of his word. The smell of chivalry hung around him. Like he took pride in being noble.

"Anyway, I need to speak to Ciara," I said, "Unless you want to tell me where she learned to use a dagger like that?" She wasn't quite on Tam's level, but she was good enough to dodge a mace and then kill a man in about two seconds.

"She wants to talk to you too," the mage smiled, "Your weapons impressed her."

"Glad I'm so popular," I frowned, "Where is she?"

A hand landed on my shoulder with a playful slap. I groaned, and turned around. Ciara was standing behind me, inevitably, her long blonde hair down now. The dagger was tucked under her belt at her belly, and my eyes found it quickly. I was wary, and took a step back.

"I'm right here," said Ciara, smiling innocently, "What do you want?"

"I want to know where you learned to kill a man like that, is all," I said, "Not here to conduct an inquisition."

My two elven companions looked at each other like I had said something strange. Which I had, in mentioning the Inquisition. At that point, it was an arcane piece of history, not the powerful organisation we know today, which made my expression bizarre to them. I just waited for them to answer.

"She's Dalish," said Armen, joining the two of us after wiping down his hands.

"Armen, try to remember where I'm from," I said. Dalish? Might as well have been Martian, for all that meant to me.

"Another world, right," scoffed Ciara, "Do you tell all the girls that?"

A chuckle forced its way out of my throat at that, despite the cat being out of the bag. Contrary to my expectations, I didn't have the urge to hit Armen for giving away my secret. If anything, Ciara's scepticism made me think she was a little more useful than she had been letting on. Apparently, she had come to the conclusion that she could speak to me as an equal, as the rest of our group did. Smart woman.

Of course, it wasn't obvious to anyone else that Ciara was Dalish; she didn't have her face tattoos; she had left her tribe just before she would have received them.

"Only the pretty ones," I replied finally, "Works every time." Ciara laughed to herself at that. More like a badly suppressed giggle really.

"Without going into too much history, all of this land used to belong to elves," said Armen, interrupting to explain, "Humans invaded for … complicated reasons, and defeated the elves. Gave them two choices, either convert to Andrastianism or die. Those who chose the first option became the city elves, like I used to be. Those who chose the other one fled to the woods, and became the Dalish."

More death and misery. I was beginning to feel right at home, almost glad that Earth wasn't the only place with a violent history. No wonder 'pureblood' humans feel so superior, they won the war. My own people still rub it in with the Germans, although it's mostly a joke now. Don't mention the war.

"We're skilled hunters," Ciara added, "And we often have to fight off attacks from the shems, so we learn how quick."

"Shems?" I asked.

"Shemlen," said Ciara, "Means quick children, in your language. Our word for humans. We used to be immortal, see."

"So I've heard," I said, "So Armen told you that I come from another world, and you don't believe him?" I was actually surprised she didn't trust him enough to take his word for it. Particularly after what I had shown her.

"I don't believe things unless I see them for myself," Ciara smiled, "Sorry." I nodded. It was a fair enough position to take. And I had photographic proof of my world, so it wasn't an issue.

"Armen, show her the picture book while you watch our prisoners. I'll make a believer out of you yet, Ciara," I said, "And now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to join the others to sleep."

"You're sleeping with both of them, aren't you," said Armen flatly, with a twinkle of mischief in his eye. I snorted at the rhetorical question.

"It's probably more accurate to say that Tam and I are keeping Julie company," I said, yawning, "No complaints though." None whatsoever. Still none.

"You really are a noble," said Ciara, implying exactly what DeSelle had been complaining about. Unable to respond without looking somewhat like a hypocrite, I just shrugged, and left. I was too tired to care.

* * *

The next few days were largely uneventful, and they were pure bliss for that reason alone.

I woke up on our wagon, completely refreshed. Not by the sensation of Tam's horns stabbing me in the chest either, she had opted to sleep on Julie's stomach this time, while I had taken her shoulder. Had to brush both red-brown and silver-gold hair out of my face as I woke. I was enthralled by the sight of the two of them for several minutes, but in the end, I nudged them to open their eyes. We had to get moving quickly.

While they woke up slowly, rubbing their eyes, I found Ser Duval already awake and organising his troops. We nodded to each other, not needing to say anything. We understood each other, as leaders of soldiers. And to think we were trying to kill each other less than twenty four hours before. He was the first reasonable person I met in Thedas. Armen didn't count because he was a mage, Ciara was stubborn and chirpy, Tam was … well, Qunari, and Julie didn't count because she's a step above all of us. So, the honour went to Milo Duval. Of the Exalted Plains. Wherever that was.

Twenty four of Duval's men-at-arms would be joining us, the rest would camp on the hill until a messenger could reach Gethran's Crossing to fetch carts for those who couldn't walk yet. To his credit, the noble had his troops swear to him that they would not speak of how their fellows had died. As far as they were all concerned, the sylvans had killed the unfortunate bastards. I heartily approved, having no need to draw attention to my weaponry. Those who were going to stay behind seemed perfectly happy to agree to this, though it might have had something to do with a cranky Tam wandering about.

We had a quick breakfast of dried foods from my ration packs, which we were depleting very quickly by this stage. Armen and Ciara were utterly exhausted, and collapsed into the still-warm sleeping bags on the wagon as soon as we got it off the hillside. Ciara kept stealing glances at me, but she was so tired that she couldn't turn away fast enough to escape my notice and I myself couldn't figure out what she was thinking. In the end, our journey began without her questioning of my very existence. Which was actually a little disappointing, as I had grown used to being an object of interest. In fact, she never brought it up again in conversation, unless it was immediately relevant.

The few horses that Duval had brought with him had been caught again, allowing himself and his sergeants to ride in front of our cart, following the troops along the road. We took up the rear, where I could bring my firelance to bear on anyone having second thoughts about our temporary alliance. Tam mounted Fritz again, while Julie and I took turns on the reins holding Bob and Lucky, practising my wagon driving. I wasn't very good, but Julie kept us on the road with a corrective tug here and there.

The next two days were uneventful, as I said.

We travelled slower than we would have done otherwise, but not by much. The surviving men-at-arms were old hands at the marching about business, I could tell, even if they were essentially just hired thugs compared with the discipline of what I consider to be a soldier. I was grateful for the speed. Every step was one further away from Halamshiral and Orlais' nutjob justice system.

We made a solid twenty miles on both days by my reckoning, passing by another three villages and following the river. Every hour, we'd stop for a half-hour. I would watch our friends closely, with Tam and Julie sitting beside each other leaning their backs on mine. Julie would read, and Tam would interject as she was trying to learn how to read the Latin alphabet. I guess they both wanted to know more about Earth before showing up there. Armen and Ciara snored in each other's arms from the back of the wagon during the day, snuggled up in the mage's robes, and kept a close watch at night. It was nauseating and adorable in equal measure, though I suppose people could have said the same about my new interests. I wouldn't really speak to them until after we arrived at Hearth, due to their new nocturnalism. Duval and his people kept to themselves as well, for the obvious reason. There was still resentment in camp.

We arrived at our expected destination in the mid-morning of the third day, after about an hour's march from our night camp. I knew we were close when Duval put his mask back on, despite what I assumed was summer heat, and ordered his people to close ranks from their marching column at a crossroads. The trees around us were old and twisted, lacking a lot of their leaves, and there wasn't a lot of other foliage. No bushes and very little grass. The mud was exposed. That was a warning sign in itself, but I was ignorant of it.

I hopped down from the wagon with Julie, and made our way to Duval. Tam dismounted and stayed put, longbow off of her back and arrows threaded between her fingers. She was also on alert, which alarmed me. I turned to Julie, but found her perfectly calm, if a little curious as to what was going on. I frowned, not sure what to make of the situation.

"What now?" I asked, as his people made ready to fight. A profuse number of axes appeared, which struck me as quite a smart choice against trees. I slung my firelance, as I waited for him to speak. Duval didn't answer for a moment, but turned his head from side to side, scanning the woods around us.

"Now we fight, Marquis," he said, relishing the idea.

"What about your mercenaries?" I said, looking around for them. Not another soul in sight. I was beginning to worry.

"Do you not smell that?" he said, ignoring my question. I inhaled through my nose, and sure enough, there was a trace of something unusual. There was a burning smell mixed in with the dry dirt smell that had hung around since dawn. Someone was torching wood. I scanned the horizon carefully for the source, and found smoke rising from the west. A shot of fear went through me, as I realised the fumes were close and looked to be moving closer.

"That way, Duval!" I shouted, pointing, "Julie, Tam, with me."

The men-at-arms flinched, before their leader ordered them to turn and close ranks again in the direction I had indicated. Julie paced alongside me as I returned to the wagon, trepidation on her face.

"What's wrong?" she asked, "Did you spot a sylvan?" I wasn't sure what was making the smoke, but I had seen it come at me before. What followed wasn't a walking tree, that was for sure. I needed to be ready for the worst.

"Something is setting fire to the woods and its getting closer," I said, "Dragon, maybe."

Julie's face dropped at that. Tam, overhearing my words, wasn't amused either. The most fearsome creature in all of creation, as far as I knew, was coming for us. Coming for me again, I should say. Understanding their feelings on the subject completely, I made my way to the back of the wagon, climbed up and gave Armen a soft kick to wake him.

"Get up, we're going to need you," I said, "And I need something from under you."

"What's wrong?" mumbled Ciara, jarred from the impact I had delivered to Armen's side.

"Dragon, maybe," I said, deciding that keeping it simple was best. The Dalish girl's eyes opened to the size of chicken's eggs, and she hopped out of the wagon with her bag. At least one of them was on the ball, at least. Armen simply looked up at me with scepticism, as I tossed sleeping bags out of the way to get at the box below.

"A dragon, are you sure?" he said.

"Well, unless the mercenaries we've heard so much about have flamethrowers, there's a lot more fire around than there should be," I said, not bothering to explain what the hell a flamethrower was exactly. The name tends to be enough explanation if you want people to move quickly, I find. Armen craned his neck to look around at the sky, and soon spotted what I had already.

"It could be a mage," he said, as I undid the clasps of the metal box beside him and opened it.

"Not taking a chance," I replied. I unwrapped my second and only remaining rocket launcher from one of the blankets we had stolen from the prison, and checked it. There didn't seem to be any damage, to my immense relief. Julie looked at it with gleaming green eyes, indicating that she was very interested in the device.

"What is _that_?" she asked, seeming to forget about the threat. I smiled slightly, cheered by her indomitable curiosity. I held the thing out for her to see, once I was sure the safety remained on.

"It's the weapon I used to kill the dragon," I replied, "Well, actually, it's a similar weapon." Explaining the difference between a rocket designed to blow up giant metal war machines and a rocket designed to blow up the equivalent of castle-keeps would have been redundant then, I suspected. Less so today, but it's been decades.

"Yet another marvel of devastation.." muttered Armen, his smile on his face but his tone dark with disappointment. If I were an arms-dealer, I suspect I could have lived out the rest of my days in complete luxury courtesy of his friends. If the way he used to talk about their need was any indication. Of course, he was dead right about their need. Templars are bastards without a doubt, but they are heavily armed bastards at the best of times.

Julie glanced around at the soldiers and the ever-approaching evidence of fire, and stowed her questions for later, her practicality and probably a little fear overriding her need to know at that moment. She tied her long hair back and put her helmet on, before checking the handcannon. I had shown her the essentials other than how to fire it safely, and she was immediately proficient. Her unusual memory playing its part.

Glad that the danger was understood, I tossed Tam her own helmet as Armen and Ciara began up-armouring too. I unslung my firelance again and placed the rocket on my back, before gathering up my freshly looted kite shield and strapping it to my belt on the other side to the mace.

"Okay, here's the plan," I said, "Tam and Armen, you stay back and hit … whatever it is with what you can."

"What about me?" asked Ciara.

"If you can swing an axe, you're with Julie up front. Try not to get burned alive," I replied, "As for me, I'll be around." Trying to get the best shot at the dragon I imagined was coming. It would have been the only chance to stop it, in my mind. If it saw me before I could get a clear shot as its side, I reckoned I'd be dead. Julie had considered this too.

"If we're up front, how are we supposed to stay alive?" she asked with a frown, "Won't it just kill us? If it is a dragon, that is."

"Don't worry, I won't let that happen," I said firmly, "It won't see you until I'm able to kill it, that's what these are for." I slapped my combat webbing where the smoke grenades were, and marched forward along the dirt road to Duval again. He nodded to me when I drew level, and I motioned for him to dismount. He did so quickly.

"I'm going to conceal us behind some smoke, make sure your men are ready to hit whatever comes at us when it comes through," I warned, "You might also want to stay off your horse."

"Behind smoke?" he asked, mask tilting with his head at the notion.

Instead of answering him, I walked past the shieldwall formed along the edge of the road and about ten paces into the forest. I peered through it as best I could. There was movement ahead, but I couldn't pick out what it was yet. Not wanting to wait to find out, I tossed out all four smoke grenades I had on my webbing in a wide arc.

When I was sure I had got enough coverage, I ran back to our little alliance. To my relief, Armen had driven the wagon and Fritz to the back, and stood on top of it with Tam so he could unleash his abilities over the heads of the men-at-arms. He gave me a small wave, as he leaned on his spear-like staff. I waved back, and flicked the selector on my firelance from safe to semi-automatic. Automatic wouldn't do shit, I had learned that at the crash site, but accurate fire to the eyes was a different story.

I joined Julie and Ciara beside Duval's militia. The latter had taken up an axe in her right hand, and held her straight dagger in the other. She looked at me for a moment, before turning her attention back to the wall of smoke. She was grateful to me for bringing her along, I could tell, but she hadn't expected to get into a situation like this. I remember thinking that maybe she'd be happier on Earth.

"Later, you're going to explain how you made that too," smiled Julie, flicking her head at the smoke.

"What do I get in return?" I said, trying to distract myself.

"Oh, I'll think of something," she said cheerily, leaving no doubts as to what she meant by that. I was genuinely looking forward to it. 

Until a shrill shriek erupted from the front of us, sending a wave of fear through the ranks beside us. They backed off slightly, which set me off. No way I was facing this crap alone.

"Hold your position, or you're all dead," I shouted at them. No way they were going to be able to fight a dragon or walking trees with magic unless they could get close enough to strike. Doubt they could have outrun whatever it was anyway. They seemed to recognise this, and took a bold step forwards at the behest of their sergeant. Praise the Lord, I thought, someone with a spine. Right on time too, as the thudding started about three seconds either. I was very displeased at the development. I brought the firelance's sights to my eye, and snapped off a few shots into the smoke, to draw whatever it was in. The thudding stopped for a moment.

"Stay here," I said to Julie, "Mind her."

I pointed at Ciara, who frowned at me. She looked about Sixteen to me, in fairness, which wasn't far off the actual mark. Then again, Armen looked about the same, which was only a slightly harsh guess. If it wasn't for the magic and daggerwork, I would have treated both like kids. Regardless, Julie gave me another grin and smiled, infuriating the young she-elf as I stalked off into the smoke again.

The thudding started again.

On well-honed reflex, I ducked behind a large tree in the middle of the obscured area, heart pumping away as you would expect. I looked from right to left around the trunk, the barrel of my weapon following my move. There was some shouting in the distance now too. Was it the mercenaries, or some poor souls stumbling around the forest for game?

"There are voices up ahead," I said over the radio, "Can one of you ask Duval how many mercenaries were there?"

Before the answer came, I saw it. The first of many.

It was... well, it was a tree. Bark, roots, branches. Except the roots were formed into large feet, the branches twisted together like sinews into powerful looking arms, and the bark formed a face unlike anything I had ever seen before at the top of the trunk, forming a head. The face was an incomprehensibly angry one, appearing to me as something you'd see on a psychotic killer taking his revenge. Unsurprising in retrospect. Rage demons are usually what possess trees. I was just happy it wasn't a dragon.

I reacted like you would expect. I opened fire on the thing.

I squeezed the trigger repeatedly, each time making my mark with ease. My firelance strobed through the smoke, the bullets entered the thing's skin, sap dropping out of every hole. Splinters flew off in every direction too. To my horror, my weapon barely slowed the thing down. If anything, it seemed more angry. It didn't move quickly, for which I am thankful every day, but it wasn't alone either. More things that I had thought were just trees began their march towards me. I groaned with exasperation at the sight.

Realising I needed to get back to the group, as my own companions were constantly asking what was going on in my ear, I went with my gut. I snatched a lethal grenade off my combat webbing, tossed it at the closest sylvan and ran off without waiting for the bang. Three seconds later, I was back in sight of the others and there was a nice boom accompanied satisfying screech of pain. I emerged from the smoke entirely, and back to Julie.

"This thing isn't so good against trees," I growled quietly putting the firelance away, "I should have guessed."

"Not a dragon. Well then... I good thing I have an axe," she said slowly, "Armen, I hope you're ready with your Fade-fire."

As if to test our mage, the first sylvan appeared from the smoke and rushed the line of shields, roaring at a high pitch as it did so.

Thankfully, Armen passed the test with flying colours. He sent a spiralling burst of fire bolts flying through the air from the tip of his staff, waving it about like a parade baton from the bench of the wagon. They cruised over the tops of the startled men-at-arms' heads and impacted at various points on the slyvan's body. I was surprised by his speed at summoning them. But not as surprised as the walking tree, which caught fire at a very satisfactory rate at various patches on its body. It tumbled to the ground, trying to roll around to put the fire out, screeching again as it did so.

"Charge!" ordered Duval.

The militia charged forward, axes raised. They covered the ten paces as quickly as you'd expect, and began taking chunks out of the slyvan, hacking parts away before it could get up. The screeching got quieter, and died with the possessed thing. I was just glad that they could be killed that easily, having stood back to see what would happen. I should have destroyed my lungs shouting at them to withdraw, and that failure would cost more lives.

More thudding signalled the arrival of more of its fellows, and Duval ordered the troops to form the line again quickly. Too late. The sylvans waded from the smoke into the disorganised troops with a vengeance, slapping them aside. There were almost as many of the damned things as there were opponents to fight them. The men were rolled over like bowling pins, knocked aside with whips of gathered branches or kicked like a football. Once they were down, the trees began stamping down hard on the fallen, catching three or four before they could roll away. The result was... extremely un-pretty.

I emptied my firelance into the damn things as I backed off, Julie doing the same with her handcannon while she dragged a stunned Ciara backwards too. There wasn't any time for feeling anything, or at least for remembering later how I felt at that moment. It was true fight or flight. We chose the former. So did the others. Duval and a group charged the front sylvan, getting under its swing and hacking at its knees. Which wasn't a bad idea. Others tosses torches covered with pitch at the others, catching a few on fire. Armen followed suit with his magic, and Tam's arrows seemed to bother them greatly. She had poisoned them, I would later find out, with her vitaar paint.

Both our firearms clicked at us, complaining about a lack of ammunition. Just as two of the damn ents waddled towards us. Julie and I looked at each other. We knew what we had to do. Lacking any other good ideas, we drew our melee weapons and charged. It was stupid. I wasn't an expert on arcane crap at this point, so I had no real idea how to fight things like that. We would have died if it wasn't for a particular circumstance, that will become apparent. Julie went for the one on the left, and I the one on the right. Hers was larger, but mine guarded the way to the rest of the fight. They halted, and took the charge head on.

I rammed shield first into the sylvan's leg, and to my utter astonishment, the roots composing it fell apart. Unravelled and limp. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, I came alongside the body, which was still very much possessed. As the arms flailed at me, I slammed my mace into it. The wood broke before the metal easily. Too easily. It was like hitting paper, or cheesecake. Best comparison I have would be styrofoam, but no one here knows what that is. Parts of it simply crumbled away where I hit, flaking off the trunk of what used to be the tree. I didn't think it unusual in particular until the demon inside the tree died, because only then did the wood become as hard as it normally would be.

I stopped dead for the briefest moment, realising what had happened. Until the sounds of fighting beside me reached my ears. I turned to see if Julie was alright. She had been joined by Ciara, with her hatchet. They had disabled the other one. I strode over the corpse of my first victim, and swiped at the head of the still-struggling second. The whole top off of the sylvan came clean off with the motion, and I hadn't even put much effort into it. The wood fell still, and creaked as it returned to its fully natural shape.

Julie and Ciara looked at me like I had accomplished an amazing magic trick. Which is actually a pretty good way to put it, though it's more of an anti-magic trick.

"What did you do?" said Ciara.

"I think I know," I said, "No time to talk."

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the rest of the fight was going badly. Tam had hit possibly as many as ten of the sylvans, and slowed them down, but she was almost out of arrows. Armen was looking ragged, at the end of his tether. He had only had an hour's sleep before we woke him, after all, and apparently that affects a mage's power. Problem was it took at least two ordinary axemen to down one of the demons, and even on the ground, they could kill with ease and they did. At least four men I could see were laying dead in the mud.

I decided to conduct an experiment into what I seemed to be able to do. So I charged headlong for Duval. He was in more than a little trouble, caught with two others between four of the sylvans.

As one of the creatures impaled the woman to the chevalier's right, I ran at full sprint into the back of the offending tree-monster, shield raised. I had expected to push it down like the first one I had killed. Instead, it simply splintered apart. Collapsed in pieces with a moan. Which would have been excellent, except it put me off balance. Right between the three other sylvans and Duval.

A branch whipped across my back hard in retaliation. It would have been a lethal blow, despite the branch itself breaking on impact. The sylvan and I looked at each other in confusion. I mentally promised to personally buy the manufacturer of my armour a drink if I ever got back to Earth, before parrying a second blow from the side with my mace. The tree's other arm shattered with the hit, it was now armless. Which was amusing.

The others were actually backing off, to my great surprise and pleasure. Either afraid or not knowing what the hell I was doing that made it so easy for me to kill them. I had to say it.

"Only a flesh wound?" I asked, with a snear. The sylvan shrieked at me, in a tone I can only describe as frustration. A black arrow hissed into the wood, and the creature fell. Tam had found her mark again. I kicked the thing to finish it off, and it fell apart just as easily as if I had hit it with my shield or mace. My experiment was complete. I had a theory.

I looked up to find the entire pack of sylvans, the maybe ten of them left, staring at me. My confidence vaporised, and I took up a defensive stance. Julie pulled her axe out of the third sylvan, having half-decapitated it using my little show as a distraction, and made her way over to me. So did the remaining men-at-arms, using the opportunity to escape to safety. For the moment.

"They're going to attack at once," said Duval.

"No, they're going to start dancing," replied Julie through her teeth.

"Leave Captain Obvious alone," I said, "Get ready." It turns out we didn't need to.

It started with five or six of the sylvans bursting into flames. At first, I thought it was Armen playing with some cool magic of his, until I saw what caused the conflagration of the sixth target. A small, round object had struck it right before it was covered with the fire. It reminded me of napalm, a substance now unfortunately familiar to the world as a result of my actions. The undisturbed enemy count was now a very manageable four. We all relaxed a little, or at least I did. Tam kept up with the arrows, and everyone else drew closer. I stood and watched.

But it wasn't us who did the managing. Out of the smoke, which was beginning to disperse by this stage of the fight, came a group equally as ragtag as our own. There were two elves, one archer and one mage. They emerged first, and began attacking the sylvans from behind. A couple of the ones on fire went down hard from their attacks, arrows and firebolts making their mark, sending the targets spinning to the dirt.

Five more figures charged out of the artificial fog. Three were humans, as far as I could tell. One simply had to be a dwarf, which would have peaked my interest normally, but he wasn't who I was looking at. Not by a long shot.

No, the seven-foot tall giant with huge horns was far more of a draw on my eyes.

He wasn't shy either. He tackled on of the unburned sylvans like a linebacker on a blitz, colliding with its torso and grabbing hold of it, tackling it to the ground with ease. Out came a huge, clunky axe that looked like a butcher's cleaver, and off came the sylvan's limbs and head in a series of vicious swipes. He stood up over the chopped-up tree, and I got my first good look at him.

He was Qunari, I supposed correctly. The horns weren't the only giveaway, and they were different to Tam's comparatively tiny curled ones. They were huge and stuck out of his head like a bull's, appropriately enough. If anything, they reminded me of the black dragon's own set. Same shape. He had grey-silver skin, a short black beard, was physically fit like you wouldn't believe, his ears were pointed, and he had warpaint that I could only assume was a vitaar painted all over him. I could tell this, because he was half-naked like Tam was; nearly entirely exposed upper body, with armoured gauntlets and trousers. One of his eyes was missing, and the scarred flesh was partially covered with a leather eyepatch.

The rest of his fellows laid into the sylvans, tossing ceramic pots at the things before charging home with axes. The pots peaked my interest immediately.

"Greek fire..." I thought aloud, as the makeshift incendiaries burst against the demonic trees.

"We call it Antivan fire," said Julie at my side, "These mercenaries know what they're doing. My step-father used the same thing against sylvans, years ago." I raised my eyebrow at the further mention of her family, but did not dig deeper. The mercs were too busy putting on a show.

And that was the end of the sylvans, more or less.

 


	22. The Iron Bull II

You're probably wondering two things at this point.

How did Tam react to seeing one of her former countrymen?

And...

Did he see my weapons in action?

The answer to both came in a single incident, along with something I did on a whim that had very far reaching consequences. We were understandably very pleased to have won, and after seeing to the dead, we camped out on the battlefield and burnt up the remains of the sylvans for cooking. Which probably wasn't kosher, but I didn't care, I'm immune to Fade-crap. Or to be more accurate, I was immune AND anathema to everything involved with the Fade. I would have started discussing this new development with the others, but Armen fell asleep almost immediately after the battle was over, as did Ciara. Dug in like ticks in seconds. So the only person I could talk to discreetly about the issue was out cold.

The Qunari himself turned out to be called "The Iron Bull", emphasis on _the_. He was the leader of the group, which was appropriately called "Bull's Chargers". Some may know them from their association with the Inquisition, along with Bull himself. At this point, they weren't the supposedly holy warriors some think they were. They were just mercenaries. Very good ones.

They camped off to the side of the rest of us, in their own tight-knit circle. Which foiled my plans of talking to the dwarf among them, to the point that this one wouldn't be the first dwarf I would actually meet. On the other hand, Duval and his men had warmed up to me considerably after seeing how easily I had disassembled the sylvans. I broke out some of the hard liquor and the last of the ale from Ciara's tavern, and we had a pleasant lunchtime booze-up. Julie and Tam were very pleased at that development. That attracted the notice of The Iron Bull.

"Hey, I didn't really talk to you yet..." he said, "But what is that you're drinking?" He had clearly noticed the revelry, and wanted to get involved. The smile on his face said as much. I was all for it, not yet aware of his actual profession. I rolled a log over for him to sit on and held a bottle up.

"Vodka," I said, pouring him a cup, "Try it." He took the cup in his oversized hands, and drank it in one gulp. I winced, half expecting that he wouldn't be able to hold it down. Big doesn't mean liquor friendly. He practically inhaled it and moved his tongue about in his mouth afterwards. Didn't seem like a problem, once I saw that.

"It's … refreshing," he said, "Hits hard though. I like it." His tone was deep and gravelly, as I had expected. He sat down on the log I had provided, which must have been formerly the body of one of the fallen ents. A delicious irony, I remember thinking at the time, parking one's ass on the defeated while toasting their demise.

"Glad to hear it," I said to him, "The name's Hunt. This is Julie, and Tam. The two elves in the wagon are Armen and Ciara. I'm not the leader really... but they are following me." I pointed my finger around the group. Julie gave a small smile and a nod, whereas Tam was doing her neutral face-stare down thing. The huge man's eyes checked out Julie with interest, but when they rested on Tam, his face hardened considerably.

"I'm the Iron Bull... but I guess you've heard that," he said.

"Ser Duval told me after you tackled that thing," I replied, "Said your reputation preceded you. I believe him." Hard to imagine ordinary human beings not taking notice of a mercenary of his stature and calibre. Probably got all the women too, bastard.

"Well, I've done some crazy shit and my people are good at their job," Bull said, with no small amount of pride, "I have my fun."

"I don't doubt it," I said, before downing the dregs of my own drink. There was a silence as both my companions watched him closely, and I kept my eyes on Duval's men.

"So, that was some solid work back there," continued Bull, "Where you come from? Ferelden?"

Tam's face twitched with what I thought was fear for the slightest fraction of a second, before she looked down into her own cup and polished the contents off. My eyes flickered to her for a second, but she didn't return her gaze upwards. Unable to figure out the problem, I decided to answer the man.

"I'm the Marquis de Lafayette," I replied, "From the Far West." Might as well roll with the established lie, I thought. Bull was almost certainly going to talk to Duval at some point later, after all.

"The Far West of Orlais?" he said, not believing it, "It's just a big desert and a stinking forest. And big too. Where exactly is your land?" I smirked, thinking I would be insulted if I was actually from west Orlais.

"Do I sound Orlesian to you?" I said, "And don't say I sound like a dwarf, everyone has already said so."

"So the Far West of what?" said Bull, "Isn't it nothing but wasteland beyond some huge mountains?" He was better informed about the geography of Thedas than I was, at this point.

"For a couple hundred miles, yeah," I lied, "But beyond that, there's an ocean, and beyond that, another continent. That's where I'm from."

Bull frowned and shook his head. He didn't buy it, but at the same time, how could he contradict me? Sure, I might speak the local language, but so did he and he wasn't from around there. My clothing, my weapons, my manners, they'd all be alien enough to convince most. Bull was smarter than that, but lacked any other explanation. Which left him with nothing. No problem to me.

"Is that where you learned to fight like that?" he asked, keeping up the pretence, "Coming over that huge distance?"

"If you mean smashing tree-demons like they're nothing, yes," I said, still lying, "You've probably heard of the Templars? I'm like that, sort of. An explorer." That last part wasn't actually far from the truth. I've had plenty of time to run tests on my ability and that of Templars, and they're a lot closer than I'm comfortable with. Though far, far more capable, and not reliant on lyrium. Never had a chance to test a Seeker. I'm not exactly in Pentaghast's good books, and she's the only surviving one I know of.

"I haven't heard that Templars can do that to demons," he said, eyeing me with suspicion, "But it isn't something I know much about. I know how to kill mages and fade crap, that's all I need to know." A sentiment I could get behind fully. I refilled the circle's drinks, before responding.

"Here's drinking to that," I said, raising my cup, "To killing magic crap." Julie and Bull joined in the gesture, with Tam abstaining. We all drank at the same time. I felt myself warming up, as the alcohol began to affect me, but I suppressed it as best I could. Bull wiped his lips and handed me back the cup.

"I don't suppose you'd tell me where you learned to fight?" I said, "Since we're on the subject."

"The antaam," he smiled, "But I doubt that means anything to you." He was right. It didn't. But his eyes flickered to Tam again, before he stood up.

"Going back so soon?" I asked in jest, "And we were just getting started." I still didn't know much about him.

"It's been interesting, Hunt," Bull said, "I hope we meet again." And we would indeed do so, and in similar conditions no less. I waved him off, eager to speak to the others. He wandered away, shouting at his own people from a distance, merrily. I let out the breath I was holding, and drank again.

The Iron Bull seemed like a good guy, the sort of person I might go drinking with back home if anything, but I didn't like his questioning. I should have thought why he was even bothering, and it would have saved trouble. I just thought he was curious, like pretty much everyone else had been.

"He was big," said Julie, with a coquettish grin that had me snickering again.

"Are all Qunari men that large?" I asked Tam through my amusement, "He was built like a brick shithouse." That got a reaction, a smirk on our own Qunari companion flowered forth. Both Julie and myself were pleased to see it.

"Qunari women too," she said, her smile remaining, "I am actually considered quite small among my people." She had more than an inch or two on me, and I am not a short man.

"Is that a problem?" I asked.

"The opposite, it's an advantage," she said, "Because I'm smaller than most, and because my horns are very small, I was considered destined for great things. I would have been Ben-Hassrath, but I'm a terrible liar. So, I was assigned to the Tamassrans, and later exempted from birthing duties."

"Birthing duties?" asked Julie, eyebrows raised and lips thinned. Fairly sure I had a similar reaction.

"Qunari don't have families," Tam said, "But you'll notice that there are quite a lot of us." Yet another reminder of the totalitarianism of her former nation's government and religion. State-run baby farms. It occurred to me that she must have been an important part of that whole thing, until she escaped. Which sent another shiver down my spine, that she hadn't run from it. Of course, there was a good reason for her making that decision later rather than sooner, but I would only see evidence of it later.

Julie drank deeply in response to this, not wanting to think much more about it. Her preconceptions about the Qun had been confirmed entirely. When she was finished, she grabbed the log she had been sitting on, moved it to beside Tam and sat down again. She linked their arms, and lay her head on Tam's shoulder, staring at the fire. I just looked on, watching the expression of empathy. Julie had her secrets too, after all. But there was another thing on my mind.

"What is Ben-Hassrath?" I asked, "And why would being a bad liar stop you from being it?"

Tam's smile dropped, and her features hardened again like before. She looked over at the Iron Bull, as he slapped his thighs and laughed among his merc group. I glanced in the same direction, getting the point quickly. She articulated it anyway.

"He is Ben-Hassrath," she said, "Secret police, spies, even assassins, though there's no way he does that job. It's their job to stop all threats to the Qun, and enforce its laws." Julie's head bolted up and turned at that.

"Wait... doesn't that mean you're in serious danger?" she asked, "What if he finds out you abandoned your position?"

"I think he already knows that I am Tal-Vashoth," Tam said, "Which wouldn't be a problem, he is Hissrad, a spy. Normally, he would not want to blow his cover.. but..."

Tam looked over at me with worry, and a pang of guilt stabbed me. My presence had put her in danger. Even though she was well able to defend herself, even though she could be utterly terrifying, I was very fond of her and wanted to protect her. Julie's fault entirely. I mean, she was easy on the eyes and great in a fight. But until the night on the hillside, she didn't have anything like that hold on me.

"Well, shit," I sighed, "It's me, isn't it?"

"Someone with your abilities in the company of a Tal-Vashoth might be worth breaking his cover," she informed me, "He'll try to kill Julie and I, and capture you."

"I would like to see him try," said Julie, "He'll be full of holes." She did become rather fond of riddling particularly galling enemies with holes, either with her handcannon or other weapons. That's my fault.

"We won't let that happen," I said, agreeing with the blacksmith's sentiments entirely, "Over my dead body will he kill you two. Let's get out of here. Pack the things, I've got something to do quickly, before we go."

"What?" asked Julie.

"Restitution," I said. Not quite knowing what I was getting at, Julie merely shrugged. The two women rose as one, and began grabbing our things off the ground.

I walked over to Duval, who was laughing with his sergeant. As deep in their cups as we had been.

"Can I speak to you for a moment?" I asked. He nodded and got up. We walked a little away from his dwindled group of soldiers, who were very happy to be alive, and leaned against a large tree.

"What is it?" he asked. I pulled out the small bag I intended to give him. It was full of gold and silver, fully half what we had left from looting the bandits. I opened it and let him have a look, before pulling the strings at the top tight again to close it.

"This is for the families of the dead," I said firmly, holding it out for him to take. I had seen what it was like for wounded veterans and those left behind by the dead in my own country. They had support from our government, but often still struggled. I was quite determined to make sure I wasn't seen as some murderous monster by anyone. Not only out of personal feeling, but also with the expectation that the United Nations would soon be making contact with Orlais. Lay the groundwork for diplomacy, being the general idea.

Duval accepted the gift without words, and looked at me through his mask. Eyes peering through me, as if he had not expected this at all. I didn't doubt that, but I felt something needed to be done about the circumstances we had both found each other in. Some might hesitate to give a chevalier a large pouch of valuables with the expectation that they give it to someone else, but Duval struck me as the overly honourable type from the very beginning. Satisfied he'd distribute the money, I walked back to the wagon.

"Good luck, Marquis," he said as I left.

My action would later save the lives of ten thousand people, something so absurd that I scarcely believed my luck. In retrospect, it seems almost inevitable. But that story will be relayed in a later chapter.

By the time I returned, Tam was mounted again and Julie was at the reins of the wagon. Armen and Ciara stirred a little in the back, as the movement started. I hopped up onto the bench beside Julie, and we rolled along, past Duval and his men and towards the main road again.

There to meet us was the Iron Bull.

He crossed our path, and took hold of Fritz by the reins, stopping both horse and rider in their tracks. Fritz neighed nervously, while Tam narrowed her eyes as our assailant rubbed the back of his neck. I quickly reloaded my firelance, as it was still empty from the fight. I could tell this wasn't going to end well.

Bull began speaking in the Qunari tongue. I didn't understand the conversation, but Tam kindly told me how it went almost immediately afterwards. It was brief, at least.

"Tama... Look, I really don't want to do this," he said, addressing her respectfully, "I don't know why you're here, or if you're even still a tamassran. That guy is too interesting to let go. You're coming with me."

Tam leaned down on the horse slightly, smiling in her favourite way. "If you don't want to do this, then don't," she replied, "If you must, then prepare to die." Spoken with venom even I could recognise despite the language barrier. She could have lied, said she was a spy too or something, but she didn't have confidence she could trick someone of his intelligence.

Bull grumbled for a moment, and his grip on the horse's reins tightened very noticeably. A huge muscled arm curled over his shoulder to his back. I wasn't sure whether or not it was to retrieve his axe or to scratch himself in thought again about how to respond, but I wouldn't get the chance to find out.

Julie immediately raised her handcannon, and let off a bullet. A warning shot, thankfully. The muzzle flashed, and bullet buried itself in the ground not far away from Bull's feet. Fritz reared in surprise. He moved away with such force that Tam struggled to stay in the saddle, and the reins were torn from Bull's hand. The packhorses cried with shock too, shuddering a little. A quick jerk on the reins stopped them. Needless to say, the Qunari spy was shocked. His remaining good eye moved from the hole in the mud beside him until it was frozen on the sight of Julie, as she tweaked her aim towards him.

I raised my firelance to cover Bull's friends, as they stood up with their weapons. Faces full of anger on most of them. I put the mage firmly in my sights as the first to go if things went even more pear-shaped. I might be immune to magic, but the others weren't. Nor was the large amount of explosives and volatile weapons in the wagon. Blowing up unceremoniously would have been an irony too far.

"Nobody come any closer, or your boss learns to drink through a new hole in his head!" Julie declared loudly. Not certain that Bull's head was thin enough for her to actually do that, which amuses me every time I think about it. The man in question smirked, and waved his hand to get his people to sit back down again. They obeyed with a little prodding from his lieutenant, though their heads remained swivelled towards us. Tam wheeled Fritz around to join us, as I turned my attention to Bull himself.

"You're not in a strong negotiating position," I said, perhaps with a bit more cheek than I should have, "We're leaving."

"I guess you are," Bull replied, "But you know this isn't going to end well for you, right?"

"We're not going to be around long enough for your threats to mean anything," I said, "We're going back to my country. Good luck finding us." And good luck defeating the armed might of Earth's humanity if you did... I really wanted to believe I was still going home.

Duval rode up on one of his horses, sword out.

"Whatever this is, that's enough," he ordered, "Iron Bull, you are under my employ. You will obey. Marquis, I can't ignore you creating a disturbance either." If there was proof that he was a brave man, this is it. Even after watching us demolish his men and smack demon-possessed trees around like they were made of paper-maché, he intervened.

Bull held his hands up in protest, like he hadn't planned to do anything at all. He backed off to his friends, and mumbled to them. Some were clearly confused about what it was all about. That got me thinking that perhaps some of them didn't know he was a spy, or at least, not for sure. I nudged Julie to lower her weapon and get us moving again. She didn't.

"He should die," she said quietly to me, "He'll find us."

"If he does, he'll die then," I replied, "Let's go home." Playing that card on her was perhaps cruel, but we needed to get the hell out of there. It worked too. She put away her gun and the wagon moved again. A minute later, we were on the road again and out of sight of either Duval or the Iron Bull behind the trees.

I collapsed onto the bench, leaning back, not quite able to believe what had happened. I was glad for Julie's quick reaction. She let out a small laugh to herself as we made our escape, and smiled at me. Tam rode up alongside, deep in thought. We were going to have to talk about this again, I knew.

There was a rustling from behind, and I turned back to see our resident mage leaning over the boxes. "What was that all about?" asked Armen sleepily, his eyes barely open. The noon sunlight was too much for him, apparently.

"Go back to sleep," I said, "You'll need it to hear about the trouble we just dodged."

 


	23. In the Garden of Eden I

The journey to Hearth took another two and a half days, give or take a few hours. The half-day left over after our fight with the Sylvans and the encounter with the Iron Bull was one of nervous quiet, weapons held at the ready and glances over our shoulders back down the road where the Qunari spy and his mercenaries might have followed. Or rather, that's how Julie, Tam and I spent the time. Armen and Ciara had taken my advice and caught yet more sleep, designated nightowls that they were. It was uncomfortable for those of us who were awake though. I remember being incredibly tired. Discovery by what all witnesses proclaimed to be a superpower was definitely not on my list of priorities. Nor was it the only superpower with its eyes on me, little did I know.

We made very good progress though, at least. We covered possibly as many as thirty miles before our horses complained loudly enough for us to stop to rest them. I suppose that in itself demonstrates how desperate we were to get away. I wouldn't have let Julie push them so hard otherwise.

We made night camp by the river, in a sheltered area behind large rocks on the shore. A bit damp, but the safety from peering eyes was the real draw. The sleeping bags were waterproof anyway. I was just glad to peel off my armour and combat webbing. Which admittedly felt divine. The summer heat was pretty devastating, mixed with the humidity that poured off the river. We took precautions to insure no one could sneak up on us, noise traps and the like, and prepared food.

The mage and the Dalish rose for dinner. The last of the hot meals from the ration packs, no less. It was yet another milestone on my distancing from Earth, and I knew it too. Sad about just that, I distracted myself from the notion by recounting the events of the early afternoon with the translation help of Tam. Armen's reaction was one of extreme displeasure.

"You mean to tell me that the big Qunari was a spy, and he now knows both about your weapons and your ability to … annul anything remotely magical?" he said loudly, put off his food entirely, "I can't believe it." I thought it a little bit of an overreaction to be honest. Put it down to my lack of knowledge about the new world, and its competing tyrannies.

"Believe," said Julie firmly, "But also believe that anyone who's going to find us is also going to die." She was thinking more along the lines of Orlesian knights than Qunari assassins, I think.

"It is not like the Qunari can send the antaam this far south through Orlais," Tam added, albeit not with a lot of confidence, "At worst, there will be agents sent. In numbers we can deal with easily." Which was true enough. To be honest, with the weapons at my disposal, the Qunari could have sent an entire army and I would have won. Though the second army would have captured me easily afterwards...

"Except I didn't sign up for being hunted by crazed giants as well as crazed Templars," said Armen, "Why don't you send a letter off to Tevinter as well while you're at it, complete the set of murderous insanity!" Ciara put a hand on his shoulder, trying to calm him down. He turned his head to her, and she whispered something into his ear. He released all the air in his lungs and turned back.

"Sorry, I'm just under a lot of pressure," he said, without clarifying further. Which was a little annoying.

"Don't be sorry, it _was_ a disaster," I replied, "We're heading south, away from that problem. It was bad luck. Maybe, if we had gone down the road on our own without Duval, chances are we'd have run into those damn walking trees and the Iron Bull anyway. And we might have died." So it somewhat worked out for us, trading off short term survival for a long term threat. Which sometimes happens, and all you can do is take the consequences.

Armen accepted my response, and began eating again. I nodded my thanks to Ciara, but she just narrowed her eyes at me. Evidently, she wasn't pleased either, but she wasn't the type to express it beyond a bad look. Chirpy ones rarely are. I made a mental note to speak with her at another time, before my train of thought was interrupted by clicking of fingers.

"Perhaps my people can help," declared Armen, his mouth half-full, "We can cover our tracks, and I'm sure that they've got an interest in keeping Qunari noses out of this whole business." He looked at me for approval, or perhaps just to see my reaction to the idea.

I remember being torn. On the one hand, any help to keep people off my back was welcome and I had already thrown in my lot with the mages by accident anyway. Not to mention I was sympathetic to a fault to their cause. On the other, soliciting them for aid would probably bring further trouble to me, or so I thought. In the end, I thought it was a positive on balance. Mostly because I was hoping I'd be out of Thedas or backed up by an unstoppable military force by the time that trouble came to try and bite me in the ass.

"You know what, that's a good idea," I said, "Once we're settled in, send word. Maybe we can work out what I can do to help too." Fateful words, to say the least.

Armen's face lit up like it was Christmas, a sight familiar to many a parent now I would imagine. Well, at least around some parts. The mage was absolutely delighted at the prospect that I would help. I was very glad to see it, hoping it would cure any lingering resentment over the mess I had inadvertently put him in.

"Why not, you already had us clear out a bunch of sylvans," said Julie, head shaking, "But I guess our list of allies is pretty bare."

"The list is empty," corrected Tam, "As much as I distrust saarebas, having them around when the Ben-Hassrath death squad comes would be welcome." Nothing does quite make you seek an enemy of your enemy quite like the words 'death squad', I had to admit to myself quietly.

"I'm glad you approve," said Armen cheerily, directing his comment at Tam, "I'm looking forward to convincing you that we're not all evil."

"You're not evil, you're dangerous," Tam replied, rolling her eyes, "Evil would imply you had complete control over your actions."

"Most of us do," said Armen indignantly.

"Most," said Tam, pointing at him with her plastic fork, "But not all." Her tone was menacing, though less so than it had been at the crash-site. She was still fulfilling her self-appointed role as his overseer. Which, considering what we saw from Qunari saarebas later, was prudent for her.

"I'm sure anyone that Armen knows is good," interjected Ciara loudly.

We all stopped and turned to her, ceasing our meal-devouring to look. She stared back defiantly, particularly towards me. Like it was my fault the Qunari and the elven wizard were fighting. Evidently, she expected me to try and keep some peace. I don't remember how I felt about that at the time, but it is a role I would fall into more and more as time went on, as did Julie. Peacekeeper in more ways than one, I guess is how to put it.

"You are all in this together now," she continued, "This bickering will get you killed. Stop it."

Tam and Armen glanced at each other awkwardly, and turned to Julie and I with expectation. I had nothing to say. I agreed entirely with Ciara's assessment, and indicated as much with a sharp nod. To be honest, I wanted the tension in the air cleared. There was enough of that about with spies discovering my existence and Tam's location. Julie had more to say, and went over and took Ciara's hands as she likes to do.

"You're right, of course," she said, "We escaped Halamshiral together, we should trust each other more. Give it time, we'll be safe in Hearth." Of course, we wouldn't be safe in Hearth, not in the long term anyway. I'm not sure there was anywhere in Thedas we would have been safe.

Ciara frowned and her eyes rolled upwards as she thought about it, but I could tell that the blacksmith's plea for patience had already convinced the young she-elf. Julie could as well, as she stood up and returned to her near finished meal with a large smile on her face. Armen grinned as well, and even Tam had a small smirk. I exhaled with exasperation, just glad we were a little more united. My mindset was still mostly military, thinking about unit cohesion as much as growing trust between new friends. And lovers.

A few minutes of satisfied eating later, Julie downed the last of her steak and stood up. She yawned theatrically, kneaded her palms and loosened her belt.

"I'm going to bed," she declared, "You two, see you there." A finger flicked between Tam and I, and an eyebrow flicked upwards suggestively. Julie strode off, hips swaying ridiculously in jest, partially undressing herself along the way. Tam and I finished as quickly as possible, positively mauling the rest of our food, to Ciara and Armen's great amusement. Once that was done, we ran off to join her. Both of us were famished for another thing.

Defusing tensions and relieving stress: There's more than one way to do either.

* * *

The next day's travelling was equally as fast-paced, but considerably less nerve-wrecking.

Ciara's little speech had put us all in order, to my great surprise. We proceeded with a new and clear purpose: Our own survival and prosperity. Yet the threat of the Iron Bull following up his business with Duval with a little hunting trip, with ourselves as the prey, had not yet disappeared from our mind. It was less likely by that point, but prudence dictated we high-tail it. So we did, to the dismay of Fritz, Bob and Lucky. Horses have it tough.

Of course, my own mood was greatly lightened of annoying burdens by the memories of the night before. It started slowly and quietly, almost a repeat of what had happened on the battle-hill days earlier, but we finally had the time to continue past the point we had been interrupted. It got a little loud, admittedly, and it was worth every moment. We collapsed into an exhausted sleep afterwards, almost entirely naked, and woke up refreshed. No need for details beyond that. The Earth products came in handy. Needless to say, I felt a lot closer to both Julie and Tam in the aftermath.

The scenery changed in more ways than that.

The forests and little patches of farm fields gave way to vast agriculture, in a way it hadn't before. Fields of crops, tall and small, filled any space not given over to orchards or pastures for cows and buffalo-like creatures that I had never seen before. Not a single piece of land was wasted as far as I could tell. It wasn't all food either, I would later find out. There was flax for linen production, herbs for medicines, natural dyes for clothing, and even a couple of plants for smoking. The river was full of boats and barges in the day-time, the same types that had filled the dockyard at Gethran's Crossing.

I was impressed. It seemed to me that the level of technology for farming was actually pretty damn advanced for a society that hadn't mastered gunpowder or steam power. Of course, the reasons for this advancement were that the Blights had killed off weaker strains of crop and farmers needed to stockpile due to large taxes. The nobles downriver and as far west as Val Royeaux were insatiable in their material desires. I had some inkling of these factors, but the overwhelming picture was one of wealth, at least according to what a society like that would consider wealth. Unemployment or hunger didn't strike me as potential problems there, and indeed they weren't until the real fighting got started.

Thus was the hinterland of Hearth.

During the day, we kept following the river-road, sun pouring down on us, passing by several large villages but not stopping in them for fear of giving ourselves away. Peasants bowed at the waist as we passed, still thinking I was a noble with an entourage of mercenaries. I ignored them, as I thought they would expect, but they got out of the way fast enough to allow our swift passage, so a great number of thankyous got stuck in my throat. Although the sight of Tam riding up on me on a horse as big as Fritz would have made me get the hell out of the way too.

By the end of the day, we were all exhausted. Horses more so than people. Armen and Ciara jumped off the cart at the same time they had the day before, just before sunset, yawning as they did so. Tam and Julie went off to find some meat to cook. Ciara scouted around the new camp, which was in the middle of a thick grove of apple trees by the roadside, while Armen and I saw to the fire. Which gave us time to talk. I had questions, since we were going to be contacting his fellows.

"So... tell me how the Rebellion began," I said, getting straight to the point as I gathered fallen branches to burn. Direct was always best with Armen.

The elven mage smirked and leaned on his staff, swaying a little as he decided how to respond.

"Are you sure you want to know?" he asked, "I know more than most about it, but the knowledge is dangerous." The implication being that he was surprised I would want to put myself in further danger for the sake of his cause. I was almost insulted. Anyone would assume we were working together if they came across us anyway, and so would also assume I knew what he did. I also liked to think I had a little more honour than just looking after my own hide.

"Better to know than for it to bite me in the ass if your friends do show up," I said, "So? Get on with it."

Armen inclined his head to concede, and began speaking. I allowed him his piece without interruption.

"It started in a place called Kirkwall about a year ago, a city by the sea to the north of here. The Templar commander there went mad, due to the possession of a rare magical artefact. She began to persecute the mages there, seeing blood magic and corruption everywhere. During a confrontation with the leaders of the mages of the city, a mage called Anders intervened and destroyed the Chantry chapel with a huge demonstration of magical power. It killed a Grand Cleric, a priestess of great importance, as well as everyone else inside the building at the time. As you can imagine, there was no going back from that. Afterwards, everything just spiralled out of control. A warrior named Hawke managed to get the rest of the mages out of the city before Templar reinforcements arrived to kill the other mages, and Circles of Magi rose in anger after it became clear the Chantry intended to annul an entire city for the actions of one rogue mage."

I frowned. It was a lot to take in. It also seemed like something like this was inevitably going to happen. All conflict begins with one thing; a grievance. The Templars provided no shortage of grievances, and it seemed obvious that all it would take to push a concentrated, solidified group of powerful people over the edge was a zealot doing what zealots do best. Tethras later told me the story in more detail, but we need not dwell on the exact details as they are more or less well known.

"So the anger spread, the recriminations began and hostility rose on both sides," I said, completing the picture verbally. Civil wars of all kinds have a similar pattern, on Earth or Thedas. It seemed unlikely that negotiations could solve the problem. It was too early, the real fighting clearly had not began. I realised this early. Armen's smile faltered at my words.

"It was then we learned we were not people to the Templars, or the Chantry," he said, "Just caged animals for their benefit and amusement, albeit dangerous ones if we were let loose."

"Which ...Circle was it? Which were you a part of?" I asked, wondering if he was present at the start.

"The White Spire in Val Royeaux, the capital city of Orlais," he replied, "I had a promising life ahead of me, until all of this started. Education, good food and drink, safety if the Templars didn't get in your way. The White Spire is as luxurious as any palace."

"Couldn't you have remained loyal, and kept all that?" I asked, surprised that he was speaking well of his Circle. Such things would have given many pause.

"Who knows. Possibly? The debate about whether or not to formally rebel hasn't stopped yet. Only Circles where the Templars will attempt to annul the mages will actually fight until that decision is made. Like Halamshiral," he said, "Even if I didn't feel strongly about our freedom, the mages left there may not be safe even if they stay loyal. I think it's only a matter of time before the Templars try to kill every mage they can. Besides all of that, I wanted to fight."

I grimaced at that last part, doubting he even knew what a real fight looked like. I was also not happy about hearing that my breakout had resulted in an entire group of people throwing their lot in early. Indeed, my actions had sent hundreds of mages fleeing into the countryside, too far from the centres of the rebellion to link up with friendly forces.

"How old are you, Armen?" I asked, looking him over again.

"Nineteen," he replied, smile returning.

I shook my head, but couldn't say anything to him. I had joined the United States Army at eighteen, after all, basically as soon as I had graduated from high school. For much the same reason. I wanted to fight. And fight I did. A year and a decade had passed since that point, and I still wanted to fight, albeit not as a grunt. Armen seemed to know a lot for someone his age, but I remembered he had said there was little to do in the Circles but read and the other thing. He seemed adept at both, and had no problem with flaunting it. Needed some protein though.

"I'm sixteen, by the way," said Ciara behind me.

I nearly had a heart attack, having not heard her approach.

"Don't do that," I said, attempting to admonish her for the stealth. Unnecessary stealth.

"Sorry," Ciara replied, not sorry at all, "It seemed like an interesting conversation."

Which indeed it was. A thought struck me though. Nineteen and sixteen.

"Aren't you a little too young for this sort of thing?" I asked, "You're a child."

Ciara snorted with amused derision at that idea, and Armen had a good chuckle too.

"I haven't been a child for four years," she replied firmly in her lyrical accent, "I don't know how you tell when a girl becomes a woman, but we know exactly when." Exactly the sort of excuse a teenager would make, incidentally.

I shivered, hoping she was only referring to puberty. The concept of childhood beyond puberty didn't exist in Thedas. Still doesn't, despite my best efforts. Putting off adulthood has all sorts of benefits, like not having to worry about babies when you're barely not a baby yourselves. My mild disgust must have been obvious, as Ciara and Armen got even more laughter out of it. I was tempted to slap the latter in irons for statutory, to see if he would laugh then. I had plasticuffs somewhere in my pack. The values of a place where most die before their fifth birthday are inevitably different, I suppose.

Of course, this placed me deep in thought about Julie and Tam, who had to be anomalies where this subject was concerned. Julie was in her mid-twenties by my accurate guess, and I placed Tam at the same age as me, late twenties-early thirties. Neither had children, as far as I was aware. Neither had any of the signs physically. Tam had said she was exempt from birthing duties, but that didn't explain Julie. She was eccentric, but with her beauty and capabilities, she had to have had suitors at some point. An accurate guess on my part. I guess it shocked me that someone as … well, loving as Julie wouldn't have someone, if everyone was getting together as early as Armen and Ciara.

The pair in question returned from the hunt with several nugs, all smiles, and we cooked the creatures for dinner. Didn't taste half bad either. My questions disappeared into the back of my mind, replaced with a desire towards satiating my hunger.

 


	24. In the Garden of Eden II

The last day proceeded at a much more relaxed pace. The sun was even more intense, so I removed my armour and donned gold-rimmed 'aviator' sunglasses. The chance that the Iron Bull and his men were following diminished entirely. I remember thinking that if the giant couldn't catch up with us in that time, I doubted he ever would. This was particularly true as the mercenaries had horses to chase us with, and our wagon meant that even with a day to settle affairs with Duval, they should have found us by that point. To say I was relieved isn't enough justice to my actual feelings.

After all, my only worry would be sitting about, relaxing as I awaited the vastly superior forces of my homeland to arrive to rescue me, all the while in the company of two beautiful, interesting women, possibly with a little entertaining combat against primitives with no conception of heavy firepower. Getting caught on the road with all the good stuff stuck on the back of a wagon would have sucked, but getting caught with my legs kicked up in a prepared position with all the good stuff ready to go was entirely another thing. I was already planning to get a still together at the earliest opportunity, as a side project while I waited.

On another note, the shaded lens and glistening frame of my glasses turned more than a few heads. It had only occurred to me as a good idea to wear them once I spotted the case in a side pocket of my own pack. The sun was very bright, and the faux-gold added an obvious air of wealth about me. Perfect for cavorting about as a foreign noble, I thought. Tam and Julie both had a go at looking through the lenses, and both agreed it seemed very useful. Tam even remarked that the Qunari would probably pay handsomely to have a look at such an invention, as Par Vollen and Seheron are a lot more sunny than southern Thedas. That's how I discovered that we were in the southern hemisphere of the planet, actually. It would be a while before I saw a real map of the known world, as opposed to a rough sketch.

The general atmosphere of activity concentrated, the further we went along. We were no longer alone on the road, not by a long shot. Other carts and wagons, pulled by horses and donkeys of every conceivable colour and shape, joined us. The smell of the air got a little more ugly as a result, from both animal and hard-worked peasant alike. I hoped that hygiene wasn't as bad here as the history books of my world made out about similar cultures there.

It was the middle of the afternoon when Julie waved to a couple of people she knew. It elicited first puzzled looks and then frantic waving back. I thought it odd that they didn't rush over to speak with us. It's not like we were in a hurry either, yet she didn't signal a stop or pull back on the reins.

"Friends of yours?" I asked from the bench beside her, trying to get to the bottom of it.

"Customers," she replied, waving to another, "I'm good at what I do."

"I can imagine," I said flatly, knowing she had a huge advantage over every other blacksmith. She probably learned the techniques after a single sitting of watching someone else, more or less cutting the workload in half. All she needed to do was train her body to copy it, so in theory she should have outclassed all but the grand masters of the craft. Which she could indeed.

"They seem surprised to see you," said Tam, riding up beside the wagon.

"My arrest was pretty public," Julie said, grimacing as she recalled the event.

"How public?" I asked. Out of curiosity more than concern.

"They snatched me in the street, early in the morning without warning in the market. In front of most of the town," she said, "Searched my place, didn't find the coin and weren't bothered to confiscate my goods for resale. It was quite loud."

Which explained the "striking a chevalier" charge on her rap-sheet. The beginnings of panic slipped into my throat as I realised something.

"Doesn't that mean they'll ask questions?" I said, "Maybe even report you?"

Julie shrugged at that, to my dismay.

"With my records destroyed, even the chevaliers who arrested me will assume I settled my debt," she said, "Time for a stop, I think."

Before I could question it, she swerved the wagon off the road, up a very thin lane that weaved away through tall sunflowers. The two packhorses neighed at the sudden change of direction, and Tam had to wheel Fritz around to follow again, causing a bit of disruption to the traffic behind us. Angry shouts came from the road, stirring Armen and Ciara from their sleep along with the jolting of rough terrain. I turned back to see if anyone was following and to check on the ex-sleepers, before addressing the driver.

"A warning would have been nice," I said sarcastically.

"Not as nice as what we're going to," she said, "Trust me."

I grumbled but settled back into my seat, holding on to the edge of the wagon for balance with one hand and keeping my glasses on my face with the other. Non-answers are not something I'm fond of.

Ciara poked her head up over the parapet of the boxes, and glanced around sleepily beside me. "What's going on?" she asked, "Why are we off the road?"

Julie had a little giggle, as she careful navigated the lane. She was leading us _somewhere_ at least. It was about fifteen minutes before she explained, even as Armen added his own inquiries.

"It's time for a wash," she said in a bored tone.

We turned a corner, and beyond was a large rocky pool with water jetting up in the middle of it, like a water fountain with not enough pressure. Or a jacuzzi. It was stuck in smooth raised rock at about shoulder height, shaped sort of like an upside-down plate. Small aqueduct-like pipes carried the overflow off a few yards in four directions to irrigation trenches, feeding the crops without spoiling the spring. They looked, inevitably, elven. The same sort of smooth white brickwork that the bridge we had crossed days earlier was built of. The whole thing was set amongst the high yellow flowers, the space paved in the same way the

Julie's intentions were obvious. "Oh good, no one is here," she said, bringing the wagon lurching to a stop beside the spring itself, wood creaking. She stood up on her seat and stretched to her full height, arms raised up. Which drew my eye, until Tam came riding by on Fritz. The Qunari circled the place, sizing it up.

"What is this?" she asked, looking confused.

" _La source couronné,_ " replied Julie, "Water bubbles up from the ground here for... some reason I don't know, and the elves built this to catch it. Some of the locals bathe here, and I know about it from my step-father." It seemed like a good spot for that, I thought. Its name was 'The Crowned Spring' after all, which I felt was entirely appropriate. It was big enough for twenty people to fool about in. Tam wasn't satisfied with the answer however.

"I meant why are we here?" Tam asked impatiently.

"Who cares," said Ciara, all smiles as she began stripping off and climbing off the wagon. Armen was hot on her heels, giving me a knowing nod. The robes were magically flying off him as soon as he finished the gesture. I rolled my eyes as Julie responded to the question at hand.

"We're maybe an hour away from Hearth now," Julie explained, "But I don't want to ride through town in the daylight. It'll raise questions, ones that I don't want to answer until I'm back home and ready."

"So you thought we'd hang around here until dark?" I asked.

She gave me a peculiar look.

"You've said that before, 'hang around', and I still do not understand what you mean exactly," Julie said, "But yes, we stay here until dark."

"I like this plan," I said, standing up. Not only from a desire to rest, but also as I didn't really want to draw attention to the contents of our little convoy.

"So do I," Julie said, "You are getting a little ripe." I sighed, as she nudged me and jumped off the cart. It was undoubtedly true. Combat, sex, and humidity-maxed heat had taken its toll on my aroma. And hers. In fact, if I had to say so, only Armen maintained complete cleanliness. Probably through some magic trick. I was getting to need a shave pretty desperately to boot.

The others were soon either naked and in the pool, or losing their clothes at a rapid rate. As the thought of real relaxation appealed to me greatly, an idea struck me for enhancing it.

Soon, dressed down to my boxers, a large box and the large firelance in hand, I climbed up to the spring pool. The outside of it was entirely dry and just rough enough to grip well with one's feet. I set the box and firelance down on the edge, and sat down into the water. There was a step on the inside of the pool, presumably for sitting on. It was pretty damn cold, but not quite as cold as the river had been when we washed after escaping Halamshiral. Ciara and Armen chatted among themselves about something, Tam was neck-deep, head leaning back on the smooth edge, and Julie was watching me. I inhaled air greedily for a moment, getting used to the water.

"What are those for?" said Julie, slightly annoyed, "We're relaxing, remember." I smirked.

"Well, this is so I can smite anyone coming down that road in an instant," I said, patting the side of the weapon, "Nothing worse than being interrupted in the bath."

"Yes..." said Julie, "And the other thing?"

"Music," I said, taking out the player and scrounged speakers. Julie's drown vanished, replaced by enthusiasm for my little plan. I set the speakers facing up in the box, and found what I was looking for on the player itself. American classics playlist. I clicked a random song, which turned out to be _In A Gadda Da Vida_. Or, In The Garden of Eden, if you're not drunk.

The guitar riff started up, and caused an immediate reaction. Armen and Ciara's conversation stopped. Tam's head rose from its relaxed position as she listened. Julie sank further into the water, enjoying the moment. I had a good laugh, then dunked my head in to cool off further. The heat was damned oppressive that day.

So that's what we did for a few hours.

Listened to more Earth tunes, sat about in a stone tub, and emptied our heads of the stress we had built up. Every so often, there would be some noise that sent me bringing the weapon beside me to my shoulder, and every time it would turn out to be nothing. It wasn't like the drinking at the crash-site either, which was more about distraction. I could make some off-colour comment about baptism and being born again, but I doubt anyone would get it.

* * *

By the time the sun began to lower itself noticeably, we were mostly out of the water. Ciara and Armen had fallen asleep in the wagon again, where they had laid themselves out to dry. Tam was doing her nakedness-in-sunlight thing like she had before, which neither myself or Julie had a problem with this time. We had seen it all before. Speaking of Julie, she was similarly naked but still half in the pool, sitting close to me.

As you can imagine, I was looking on with a great deal of happiness through my sunglasses. The cover from which didn't fool either of them.

"So, we need to talk about what happens when we arrive," Julie started suddenly, examining her pruned fingers as she spoke. Betraying her nervousness perhaps? It was a rare event for her to display it that easily.

I shifted in my seat, not having expected her to get to that point while we were still there. It didn't seem like her to try and spoil the mood. Tam inclined her head slightly to listen, but remained parked, leaning back on her palms in the light. I had no idea what to expect.

"We do," I said carefully, "So, what will happen?"

"People will wonder what happened," said Julie.

"Why you're free?" asked Tam.

"Who you both are too," Julie added, "And I have a cunning plan."

I snorted, attempting to suppress a laugh at that. Not only because I felt that cunning would be less useful than a display of force, but also for some rather more arcane reasons, which my comment afterwards reveals.

"Is it a plan so cunning, you could put a tail on it and call it a weasel?" I said flatly.

"What in the name of the Maker is a weasel?" asked Julie loudly, crossing her arms in complaint at my supposed doubts. With very intriguing effects on her person. My mirth only increased.

"Never mind," I said quickly, "Your plan."

"The story we will tell is this;" Julie said, "I was arrested, brought to Halamshiral, where you found me and got me out."

"How did I manage to pull off that miracle?" I asked, playing along.

"You bought out my debt hours before the fire," she continued.

"And just why would I..." I started, before noticing Julie's cocked eyebrow. I was confused for a moment, but had a guess pop up swiftly. Something fairly close to the truth.

"I saw you, and wanted you?" I said, "And because I'm a noble, I got what I wanted."

"And I was only happy to comply, seeing that you were a good person," Julie replied sweetly, though perhaps not honestly, "The gold we're bringing will help convince people, as well as the way you act. I don't think we'll have any problems, provided we use the money correctly."

"What about me?" said Tam, "I can't be your betrothed as well, and I am not going to play his servant." Pity, that first part. Completely obvious, that second part. She didn't appear to be in a bad mood, but I guess she was worried about it. Settling down this far south as a Qunari, Tal-Vashoth or not, was a risk I was not aware of.

Julie waved Tam over, and when she was close enough, put a hand on her arm.

"Tam, you're my mistress," she said, "People will believe that."

"That works," shrugged Tam, planting a kiss on Julie's cheek, and laying down on her stomach to continue her sunbathing. The relationship between the two of them was growing too, but I was a little too distracted to take great notice of it at that very moment.

I rubbed my temples a bit, trying to make sense of the detail. The noble-rescues-the-girl story had to be a pretty archetypical story, both in my world and here. Nobles would love such self-promotion, as it makes them look good and keeps peasants from rising in the hopes that their sons and daughters might be lifted above their station. It was the mistress part I was having trouble with. Showing up with both a fiancé and a mistress at the same time, after last being seen in chains? I couldn't get behind the idea.

"How will they believe that?" I asked, "You're a commoner, why would she not be my mistress?" Even if she was, people would have thought I was exactly the sort of noble that commoners hate. Which was exactly the opposite sort of impression I wanted to give off. As long as people thought I was an okay guy, as we say back home, they wouldn't go out of their way to screw with me.

Julie sighed and rubbed her cheek a little before speaking. "People already think I have had a mistress for a few years," she replied, "I told them that, to keep the idiots and bastards away."

"So the story is that you begged him to take me along," said Tam, putting two-and-two together, "And when he saw me, he agreed on the spot."

"That's... actually pretty clever," I said, finding myself believing we could weave the web of lies well enough to succeed. Assuming the details on the mistress angle were solid, it would make perfect sense in a fairytale sort of way. Instead of putting me down for the reputation of the aristos, it exploited the cliché to reinforce our story.

"Only if you can pull off acting like a proper noble," Julie warned.

"So act like an arrogant bastard, but dutiful enough to deflect hate," I said, "I think I can pull that off." And I wouldn't even need to act.

 


	25. A Noble's Hearth I

At sunset, the sky turned its angry orange and we set out on the last leg of our long journey. All of us had changed into a new set of clothes, as we had no desire undo the good work that the 'Crowned Spring' had done for us.

Of course, one of us didn't have a spare set, and had to borrow from my assorted collection.

Inevitably, Julie was now fully dressed in the uniform of my world, complete with a jacket with all the symbols of Fraser's country and body armour. Her toolbelt had been replaced with combat webbing, on which she hung the rounded helmet off of one hip, and her weapons on the other. With her hair tied back into a ponytail, she probably wouldn't have looked too far out of place back home. Tam had also augmented her clothing with one of my t-shirts, which without the leather and cloth cross-wrapping underneath actually managed to reveal more of her body than before. The temperature had dropped off suddenly and sharply, so I didn't really blame her for making a practical choice there. Or perhaps it was simply to attract less attention to herself. Ciara donned a padded hunting outfit once again, which was quite a contrast to the linen serving clothes she had on before. Armen, inevitably, kept his robes with their numerous, well-hidden pouches.

To the eye of anyone in Hearth, I reckoned we might as well have dressed as aliens. I suppose we had, actually, given how strange we must have looked to the common person on the street. As a precautionary measure, I had everyone fitted out for armour again, doled out more ammunition for Julie's handcannon, and broke out the rest of the fragmentation grenades I had left.

Which might lead you to believe that I didn't have faith in Julie's plan. The opposite was the case. If I was going to play the foreign noble, then I had to look as foreign as possible, while playing to the commoner's idea of how a noble acts at the same time. Showing up in strange garb while possessing an overwhelming capability to kill was exactly the right move, both Julie and I agreed. Armen was less enthused, worried about provocation of the local authorities, but I dismissed his worries. If I was a noble, I couldn't hide it. If you've got it, flaunt it, as the old song goes.

It was all part of the scheme which Julie had dreamed up, which according to her, she had pieced together over the course of our entire escape and concerned everything we had to do.

The traffic of wagons and donkeys had disappeared an hour earlier, as expected. Without the benefits of technology, my understanding was that people had to rise with the sun and work until it went away. So we had the road to ourselves, for the most part. There were fires on the roadside where people had set up camp for the night, either too exhausted or too broke to proceed to the town. After an hour of travelling, sometimes with the help of my flashlight, we exited a particularly dense plantation of pear trees.

Hearth was revealed to us in the gloom.

The town was surrounded by a substantial defensive wall, punctuated with round-towers with high peaked roofs. I made a mental note to inspect these in the daytime. Big walls didn't necessarily impress me, as I had weapons that could bring them down, depending on where I struck and the construction itself. They were tall enough to require a siege tower to mount rather than ladders, at any rate. Torches moved along the top of the fortifications, tracing the positions of guards as they went about the business of keeping the people inside safe. The space between the wall and the farmland around the town was a couple of hundred yards, or in other words, an arrow's flight distance. So they could turn besiegers into pincushions with a clear line of sight. The walls ran right up to the river, which appeared on our left.

"By Andraste, it is good to be back," sighed Julie, looking up at the walls. She didn't look happy, just relieved. I wondered if I would feel the same, when I got back to Earth. It was a strange notion.

"Let's hope it stays that way," Tam added, "The hardest part is next."

"I hope the chevaliers are either asleep or too drunk..." said Julie, catching my full attention.

"What do you mean by that?" I asked.

Julie gave me a nervous glance, but didn't elaborate further. The feeling that I would be involved in some gratuitous violence struck me again, as we approached the gatehouse. I shifted in my seat, all the better for firing, and tightened my grip on my firelance. Noticeably so, apparently.

"Don't worry, we have your back," said Armen. The cliché words didn't reassure me in the slightest. Still, the man was trying. Ciara was beside him, not paying much attention to the conversation, directing her full gaze at the guards ahead.

Like the guards at Halamshiral, they were dressed in blue and had masks on, although their face-coverings were a dull red instead of polished metal. They had the same longswords that Duval's men had in great numbers, but no shields. Not that shields would have helped them much. There were only two of them on duty there, and if I had to guess, I would say they were bored. They slouched against the rock, chatting. I frowned at the lack of discipline. After all we had seen on the road, I had expected a great deal more wariness. Testament to my own professional mindset I guess, as their sloppiness was about to help us get by.

As I was in the middle of my mental disapproval of their readiness, the guards were startled as Tam rode up ahead of us and drew her sword. As planned. They went for theirs, but didn't draw before she spoke.

"Make way for the Most Honourable Marquis de la Fayette, Lord Samuel Hunt!" she shouted, mustering all of her authority. Which was considerable. She had been trained to exude authority since the age of twelve, after all. The guards' hands flinched away from their blades, and they looked for the 'most honourable' lord in question. I stood up on the wagon, helmet off and beret on, as they approached with lit torches smoking away.

One glimmer off the gold on my pins and beret, and the leader slapped his subordinate's chest into a short bow. I smirked at that, before quickly turning it into a warm smile for appearance's sake.

"Please, take these as a gratuity for your cooperation," I said, in Orlesian so I could hide my accent, "And for your inconvenience."

I tossed them two silver coins, which the leader caught awkwardly, hardly believing his luck. Julie had told me that was equivalent to somewhere between a week's and a month's worth of wages for them.

"Thank you, milord," he replied in common, "Will you be calling upon the baron? He will want to be informed of your arrival." I guess they weren't entirely incompetent, as they were directing the unknown noble to their own liege-lord for verification of my identity. After all, how many guards could recognise a real noble from a fake when they saw one? My respect for them inched upwards a little.

"Tell him I will be staying temporarily at the Marteau residence in the smith district," I replied, "And that I hope to meet him tomorrow to talk about purchasing some land."

The guards looked at each other quickly on the mention of Julie's surname. She had warned me about this, and had told me to hurry along once our purpose was made clear.

"Good night," I said, "I hope to meet you again." I wasn't sure that I kept a straight face when I spoke, but the guard seemed to accept it. I had only been informed of this particular duty a few hours before. I hadn't quite got my head around it.

We got waved on, through the gate and into the town itself.

"Thank the Maker," said Julie, once we were out of earshot of the gate.

"Told you I could pull it off," I joked. I got a soft punch in the arm for that, causing the wagon to swerve a little in the process.

"So... take us home," said Tam, not appreciating the irony of her words.

"Just follow this street," Julie replied to her, "We're going out of the gatehouse on the other side."

Tam nodded, and took Fritz forward, horse hooves knocking on the cobblestones loudly as they went ahead on the lookout.

The avenue itself was wide enough for two wagons to pass in a pinch, but without room for pedestrians. It was far less grand than that of Halamshiral, but far better than Gethran's Crossing or any of the other villages we had seen on the way. There was no street lighting, but the moons were both full that night, and having two moons makes the night very bright indeed. There were also little lights in windows, as well as the peeking of fireplaces out of doorways. By my watch, it was only about twenty-one hundred hours. People were still awake but paying passers-by no heed at all. The sounds of people talking leaked out of every small tavern and family home, and the smell of the street was greatly moderated by the smell of food and burning wood.

It felt safer than Halamshiral too, despite the similarity of the winding streets. Whether it was the expectation built up or the size of the town itself, it was far less imposing in many ways. Less guards to bother me, yet enough to fend off the dangers of the countryside. Less people to barter and trade with, but enough to get to know. Most importantly, it was the journey's end. As far as I hoped I would need to travel, and a clear landmark for anyone of my world looking to find me.

We passed the empty central square and marketplace, a space flanked on all sides by more salubrious buildings, through another avenue until we reached Tam. She was waiting at the next gatehouse, which was darkened with the gate open and no guards. Julie brought the wagon to a halt beside her.

"Trouble?" she asked.

"There are no guards," the Qunari reported, "Why?"

"They patrol the palisade on the other side," Julie replied, "There are archers in the towers above though, so try not to look suspicious." It would be some feat for Tam to avoid suspicion, given who she was, but we proceeded anyway.

On the other side of the gate, outside the walls again, was another large collection of buildings. They were lower than those inside and had large yards, usually including some form of large equipment. This was the smithy district, I realised. Somewhat of a deceptive name too, as I saw potters and butchers too. I later learned that any business using significant fires had to be outside the walls for safety reasons, with potters using kilns, smiths using forges and butchers smoking their meat. Almost all of the manufacturing was done nearby. The smiths dominated however, which is why the area was named after them.

At the end of the street, I could see a wooden wall, complete with spikes on top to deter climbers. Cutting through it, another gate where the night watchmen were passing the time with a few drinks. Which was recklessness that pissed me off a little.

Thankfully, we didn't need to talk to them, as we shortly pulled into a courtyard between two buildings, one square shaped with a huge chimney and another horse-shoe shaped one. Tam swung Fritz in first on Julie's order, circling around and looking through open windows for any sign of life. She quickly reported to us that there didn't seem to be anyone in.

Julie, Armen and Ciara jumped off the wagon, while I covered the entrance from the top of it. The former went straight for the forge building, undid several chains barring the door and opened it.

"How odd," said Julie after she had a very brief look inside.

"What's wrong?" asked Ciara, "Are all your things missing?"

"No, everything is still there," Julie said in confusion, "I thought I would come home to find myself robbed blind."

Something smashed inside the house, like pottery or thick glass. We all turned our heads towards the windows, trying to spot movement. I saw nothing.

"Tam, ditch the bow and come with me," I said, falling into my usual mindset when I perceived danger, "Rest of you, spread out and make sure no one escapes."

The others complied, which I was very glad to see. We were working better as a team with every incident. Tam placed her bow on the wagon's bench, as I pulled my mace off my belt. No need to draw attention with gunfire, I thought. Not this early in the game. Tam drew her own sword, a weapon I remember considering a "crusader" type as she palmed it. If it was back on Earth. Very appropriate.

We approached the nearest door, and I tried the cast-iron handle. It was unlocked. I grabbed a flashlight in my spare hand. With mace and sword ready, we two most physically imposing members of our group entered the house in deathly quiet. My heart was pumping hard, not sure what monstrosity or evil prick we would find in the dark. When we were both inside on either side of the door, I depressed the activation button on the device with trepidation. White light streamed out.

The scene was a shambles.

The room was a kitchen, complete with cupboards and a sink, though it lacked the plumbing I was familiar with. The stone floor was wet and covered with shards of a large pottery container, which explained the noise we had heard. Alongside the shards was a candle in a holder, the wick smoking gently. A large table dominated the room, where the culprit lay splayed out, breathing quietly on her stomach as she slept, red hair obscuring her face.

My first instinct was that it was a child.

"You've got to be kidding me," I said, putting away my mace again, "Children go around empty buildings, getting drunk?" The notion actually sounded less ridiculous to me once I actually said it, considering the lengths my own people had to go to in order to prevent the same thing. Tam shook her head with a smile on her face.

"You really aren't from Thedas," she said loudly, half laughing. Still, Sleeping Beauty remained just the way she was.

"Oh, ha ha, you guys have more fun, is it?" I said indignantly, pointing at the body, "Going on a binge at her age is dangerous." Not like me to play the moral crusader, but damn it if some things just go over the line. My own drinking was hardly abstemious.

"I think you need to look again," said Tam, her warm smile on now.

I approached the table, and examined its occupant. My mistake was immediately obvious. It was an adult dwarf, and definitely of the female variety. She was dressed in some sort of leather padding that opened near her neckline. I frowned and turned to find Tam's smile had expanded.

"I can't believe the first dwarf I'm going to meet is unconscious, drunk, and asleep on a table," I said flatly.

"Better than one trying to kill you," assured Tam through her amusement, which succeeded in raising my spirits a little, "Though I'd make quick work of this one." Always throw in a mild death threat there Tam, don't let anyone stop you. Tam in action was a thing of art.

I scratched my head, figuring out what I wanted to do. The sleeping woman looked very comfortable, and didn't strike me as a burglar. On the other hand, having a random stranger wake up as we unloaded the Earth weapons and electronics seemed stupid beyond reason. So, with a snort of amusement on my own part, I made a decision.

"Go get the others," I said to Tam, "Bring a bucket of water.


	26. A Noble's Hearth II

"She looks so peaceful like this," remarked Julie, hand on chin as she inspected the intruder in the candlelight. We had to light the place up more naturally, as the flashlight wasn't great for filling a whole room with illumination. The battery was limited in power too, which I had begun worrying about. The entire troop was arranged in a circle around the table, as the dwarf continued to sleep comfortably. Just watching, wondering who she was.

"You know her?" asked Armen, smirking, "She's... an interesting one."

"Of course I know her, or I would have already thrown her into the street," said Julie, hand going to her hip, "What she's doing in here, I don't know."

"Is she a friend?" asked Ciara, hopefully.

Julie grimaced for a moment, thinking about how to put it right. I braced myself, knowing that look and knowing it was going to be good.

"How can I say this... She is a colossal bitch," Julie continued, with a wave of her wrist, "But she's _my_ colossal bitch." Ciara looked like she had eaten something sour, as Julie ran her fingers through her hair, probably wondering if she had said it right. I let out a small _heh_ , quite satisfied by the response myself. I knew exactly the sort of person she meant.

"What does that mean?" asked Tam, eyebrow raised.

"She's a business partner that I trust," said Julie, "We have a lot in common." Which I knew better than to probe into.

"Well then..." said Armen, "Who will do the honours?"

"Oh, it's not going to be me," said Julie, hands held up, "I have a business to protect."

"Waking her with a bucket of water is a threat to your business?" I asked.

"Certainly," Julie replied.

My eyes widened at that. "You're right, she is a colossal bitch," I said. Who breaks into their arrested friend-slash-business partner's house, gets drunk and falls asleep on the table. That bitch, I guess.

"I'll do it," said Tam, "If she tries to punish me, she'll regret it." A promise I could believe in, to say the least. Tam having two feet on the dwarf, and probably a great deal more experience opening people up with sharp objects. Or so we thought. I picked up the bucket, and gingerly handed it to Tam, who happened to be standing closest to the target's head.

The Qunari turned the bucket over, and water washed over the table in a brief torrent. The dwarf jumped up as if receiving a shock to the backside, rolling into a sitting position and blowing dripping water out of her face. Her breathing was heavy, the water must have been pretty cold. As a final insult, Tam placed the bucket over the victim's head, and crossed her arms. We broke out laughing loudly.

"My lords and ladies, may I present the lovely Leha Cadas," said Julie, in a stage-play announcer's voice. The dwarf grumbled loudly from the bucket, before lifting it up so she could see who was mocking her. With a scowl on her face. She eventually tossed the bucket away, with a little more force than was required, and rubbed some more water out of her face.

"You're alive," said Leha, "Well, that's something."

My jaw dropped. Everyone and their dog had been right. The woman's accent was so close to my own that could have passed for a local back home. All the talk about my accent sounding dwarfish was merited. But that just brought up more questions... how did that come to be? I added it to the pile of questions along similar lines, like how do Orlesians speak French...

"That's all you have to say?" asked Julie, "I thought you'd be more surprised. Don't you want to hear about my daring escape?"

"Right after I kill the person who woke me up with a bucket of water," Leha declared, standing up on the table. She started cracking her knuckles, eyeing Armen and Ciara. Who she perceived as easy targets, because they were smaller. I would have liked to see the result of that, personally, but the bout was stopped before it could begin.

"Good luck," Julie snorted, pointing behind her friend. Leha turned to find Tam staring at her, hand on curved dagger, her smile turned just as curvy with the addition of bared teeth. Clear anticipation of a fight. They had a staring contest for a little moment, tension hanging in the air as Leha decided whether or not to strike. That is, until the Qunari spoke, her features relaxing with a particular realisation.

"Actually, it was his idea," said Tam, stabbing a finger towards me. I gave her a pleading look, to not make my plight worse, but she just found that amusing and it was too late. The dwarf's attention rolled over to me, and she looked me over. I tilted my head, trying to get a gauge on her thinking, but I couldn't read her. She hid her feelings well, when she wanted to. She was a merchant, I guessed.

"So, you're the one who decided this was a good idea," Leha said, holding up her dripping sleeves outwards, "Too bad for you, I hold grudges." Whoopty-doo, I hold weapons that can mow down whole armies. I almost said it out loud, but caught myself with a grin before I gave away anything.

"Easy, Leha," said Julie, trying to soothe her, "They're friendly."

"I was having a great dream, I'll have you know!" Leha snapped, "You could have waited until morning."

"No, we couldn't," said Tam firmly. Which was right. The dwarf was uninitiated into the secret of my existence, and I had no intention of explaining to anyone else. I hadn't even intended to explain to Ciara, but Armen has a big mouth. Or likes pillow talk a little too much.

"Who's the Qunari?" asked Leha, "Matter of fact, who are all these people?!"

"She's my mistress," said Julie, with more than a little pride. Leha's gaze returned to the silver-haired giantess, with a new atmosphere about it. A lecherous one.

"I thought you were lying about that," she said, running her eyes lengthwise down Tam's person, "Thought you were using it as an excuse to go about the countryside for fun, and avoid the suitors, keep the Lady Baroness off your back." Bullseye, I thought. Though what a baroness had to do with it, I don't know.

"Well, things have developed since then," said Julie awkwardly, not exactly denying the lie.

"Which means these ones, I guess," said Leha, "A mage, a Dalish she-elf, and a... Fereldan noble?" Her eyes searched me this time, not assessing me as a sexual object, but rather trying to work out what my deal was. Ì narrowed my eyes at her, which did not deter her to my annoyance.

"Leha... this is my betrothed," Julie said, clearly a little embarrassed, "Sam Hunt, the Marquis de la Fayette." I still wonder if she was being shy for dramatic effect or not. I hadn't learned her tells at this point and it was too dark to see one anyway.

The dwarf's eyes flickered about with confusion, moving between Tam, Julie and I. She scratched her head too, practically spinning on the spot. I supposed if I learned that my best friend had come home from gaol with a much-talked about mistress AND a fiancé, I'd be confused too. I had to say something. If this was a friend of Julie's, we'd be seeing more of her.

"It's alright, I'm not a _complete_ bastard," I said cheerily, "Even for a noble." Which was all I could say, given how outraged she was that I had soaked her to the skin. Well, Tam had, on my order.

Leha's eyes widened upon hearing me speak.

"You sound like you're from the deeps near Orzammar!" she said, "What is going on!"

"It is a lot to take in," joked Armen, "Try not to hurt yourself."

"And you! Shouldn't you be locked up in some tower somewhere?!" she said, pointing at the mage. She was still drunk, I finally realised. The mage didn't take kindly to that remark, however.

"Shouldn't you be underground in some damp cave?" Armen rebuked, tip of his staff sparking ever so slightly, "Or perhaps we're both seeking more than the stereotypes provide."

Leha's jaw chewed for a moment, angry but not sure what to say to that. Or perhaps it was the threat of a lightning attack. After all, she had suggested that he should be imprisoned. This woman spoke her mind a little too easily, and it was far from nice thoughts. Though the shock of our arrival, Julie's freedom and an ice-cold bucket of water probably had a lot to do with it.

"Not a very nice way to treat a guest..." said Ciara, "In someone else's home."

"Yes, speaking of that," said Julie, leaning forward, "What in the name of Andraste are you doing here?"

Leha's anger disappeared in a flash, which intrigued me, as her face turned to a neutral pose.

"You were imprisoned, not likely to come back after you slapped the chevalier around a bit," Leha said, "As your supplier, I took it upon myself to take control of your assets and find a suitable replacement as mastersmith so I could continue to trade."

So she moved in as soon as she thought Julie wasn't going to come back, for her own benefit. Lovely. Julie herself didn't seem to mind though, as if she expected it. Perhaps she even had it arranged like that.

"And that leads to you being drunk and asleep on my kitchen table... how exactly?" she asked, laughter creeping into her voice as she spoke.

"It hasn't gone well," said Leha, "None of the other smiths want to use the place, or associate with me, because of the whole hidden gold thing. Your apprentices are out looking for new work too, so I lost them. Oh, and the baron is disputing my right to hold the property for you." The hidden gold thing of course meant hidden income, the taxes on which they hadn't paid up. I began to suspect that scheme was Leha's idea. Not that Julie was incapable of such deception.

"And..." said Julie.

"And I missed you," added Leha quickly, crossing her arms, "By the Stone, you are stubborn one."

Julie smiled, and embraced the drunken, soaked dwarf for a moment. I felt better about things, upon seeing that. They were close, it was obvious. The dwarf even permitted herself a small smile, before returning to her sullen stoicism.

"Isn't that nice?" said Ciara cheerily, "It is good to have friends you can depend on." Regardless of her skills with a dagger or bow, count on Ciara to see some positives. Both Julie and Leha stared at her like she was mad though.

"Depend on her to drink up all my wine," said Julie, "I presume the food is either eaten or gone off."

"Nothing but hard bread left, sorry," said Leha, "Mostly due to spoiling. Didn't have time to buy more." Julie sighed, and shook her head. There was some conversation about what had happened in her absence, stuff I didn't really understand. Incidentally, having no refrigeration sucks. Thank the Maker for ice mages, and mages in general. Living industrial shortcuts that they are. They also appreciate liberty as a political ideal a lot more than most. Or at least, southern ones do. I guess I'm biased, because they can't hurt me.

"Well, we can talk about how I got back in the morning," Julie said, "Go home, get ready for work. We've got a lot to do, and I could use your help."

"Profitable work, I hope," Leha complained.

"Very," I replied, knowing the plan could set us up for life. Even if I thought we wouldn't be waiting that long.

Leha jumped off the table and landed surprisingly easy, for a drunk lady, and walked off in the direction of the door we had entered by. I was about to breath a sigh of relief, when she stopped dead and turned around again.

"By the way, your sisters will be glad to see you are alive," the dwarf said, "Visit them tomorrow."

"I was planning to," said Julie, "When _Lord Hunt_ is visiting the Baron."

Leha let out a laugh at that, which didn't help my nerves. Nor did the reference to me as "lord" anything. "That'll be an interesting conversation," she said, then left.

I turned to Julie.

"Why will it be interesting exactly?" I asked, "Beyond the obvious deception I'll have to play." More convenient details were missing, I knew. Though trying to get them was almost pointless.

"It's... complicated," said Julie, "Just be you, and there won't be any problems."

I wondered if there was an implication that I was to simply blast the man's head from his shoulders. If he made some absurd threat or exposed me, which seemed likely, it would have been the only course of action. I guess she meant I should act natural, though now I am tempted to believe she was flattering me. I determined to do my best not to upset him anyway, because it was her asking. I hoped he was more like Duval than Goldie or Red Mask, the irony of which is substantial.

"By the way," Armen interrupted, "Sisters?"

"I have two younger half-sisters," Julie explained, "They have families of their own, too busy to worry about me too much." I realised that I'd be meeting the sisters soon enough, if the cover was to be maintained. I had mixed feelings on the subject.

"I guess they're not blacksmiths," Tam said, taking a chair.

Julie laughed. "In spite of their father's name, they would just hurt themselves if they tried to be." I could only imagine what that meant.

* * *

We spent a couple of hours unloading the wagon, putting the equipment in Julie's basement. Most of it, anyway, the electronics and lights we kept upstairs as we expected to use them. Armen's magic helped a great deal, as he levitated several of the heavier items away. When I asked him why he hadn't done this at the crash-site, he responded that he had been afraid to. Something about drawing undue attention around the Fade-touched helicopter wreck. Which was a satisfactory response, given that I had actually seen demons and had no desire to meet more of them. The books we put into Julie's room, to join a small collection of tomes she already had.

Julie's home was actually fairly big, easily big enough for the five of us. Which of course it was. Her step-father, mother, two step sisters and Julie herself all must have lived here together at some point. That wasn't counting her apprentices either, whom often had to stay there I reckoned. There were three bedrooms on the top floor, and a guest room on one of the ends of the curved building. I would have been satisfied with it entirely, modern conveniences aside, if it wasn't for the image I was trying to create. I very much doubted that any nobleperson, except perhaps the military diehards, would have found the place acceptable in any way. It's not that it was dirty or small or badly constructed, it was just... _common_. It was in a commoner neighbourhood, "middle-class" as we would put it back home, built from common materials rather than smooth, pretty stone, and the smells of industry surrounded it on all sides rather than incense. I regretted that we couldn't stay there for the plan to work.

After a small meal with the remaining cooked nug and the very last of my rations, we went to sleep. Ciara and Armen went away into a comfortable bedroom on their own early on, leaving the rest of us to decide on quarters. We considered splitting up into the remaining rooms. Briefly. In the end, Julie wouldn't hear of it. Her bed was massive to begin with, why would we end our association so quickly? Or so went her logic. I was far from unhappy about the situation. Tam was positively gleeful to be sleeping 'in commune' again.

All three of us collapsed onto Julie's bed exhausted, barely undressed, and fell asleep immediately after getting comfortable. It was Tam's turn in the middle, which I have to say was very agreeable.

Julie and I woke up before her, to the sound of people beginning to work. Metal striking metal, hooves outside, that sort of thing. At six damned o'clock in the morning. I could have killed the workers for that. We both went out into the yard, still half-dressed, though both of us had our handcannons. Julie went to get a bucket of water from a well, while I brushed my teeth with some of the water we already had. Which nearly caused Julie to drop her bucket when she saw.

"What are you doing?" she asked, "Why are you foaming at the mouth?"

I removed my toothbrush from my mouth and stood up over the pale I was using to spit. I thought she had already seen me do this, so I was surprised.

"I'm cleaning my teeth," I said, "Don't you?"

"I don't look like I have rabies when I do," frowned Julie, approaching, "And what is that smell?"

"Mint," I replied, "It's the flavour of the toothpaste."

Julie sniffed a little more, and tilted her head, thinking about something. She rushed off into the house and returned with a wooden container. She opened it and held it out to me. I must have looked at her like she was on something, as she rolled her eyes promptly.

"Smell it," she said.

I did as I was commanded. It was mint, or something very close. "So you chew this?" I asked, getting the drift of what she was trying to show.

"More or less," said Julie, "This is elfroot. It has many healing and cure properties."

"Mint?" I asked, "As far as I know, it just tastes good." Not being a herbalist or alchemist, I didn't really understand why it was used for this purpose.

" _Elfroot_ , and it heals because of a connection to the Fade," said Julie, "I was wondering if it would have a reaction, but it seems not." I grumbled. More Fade shenanigans I could do without. Of course, the properties of elfroot are many and not entirely magical. It is surprisingly effective against microbes, acts as an anti-inflammatory and makes a hell of an ice-cream flavour. Julie chuckled a little, and I got a warm kiss to pacify me. Which I returned on her neck, teasing.

"So, am I going to hear about your sisters or do I have to wait for another campfire drinking session?" I asked. She shrugged.

"There's not much to say, really. Their names are Élodie and Claire," Julie said, dipping a cloth into the bucket and rubbing her face with it, "My mother remarried after coming here, and had two more daughters. She died giving birth to Claire, and we were all raised by my step-father. They both grew up as normal as could be and got married. I love them both very much, but they are quite busy in their own homes." I was tempted to laugh in pity at her step-father's plight, raising three girls on his own. Couldn't have been easy. It wouldn't have been on Earth.

"How old are they? Do they have kids?" I asked, "Actually... how old are you?" It seemed like a delicate question, but she didn't seem to mind. Quite the contrary.

"Élodie is twenty, and Claire is eighteen. I am twenty-five," Julie said, seemingly happy I wanted to know, "Élodie is pregnant, though it is still early. I wish my step-father could see her now. He died in a siege in Emprise two years ago, during a dispute between our baron and a neighbour." There was pride in her voice like I had never heard before. Without a mother, she would have had to help raise her siblings. That was the source of it, I knew. I would hear such a thing again.

"Are they both as beautiful as you?" I asked, trying to flatter her so the conversation wouldn't get too serious. She laughed at my attempt.

"Even more beautiful, but don't get ideas," joked Julie, "However, I'm the useful one."

"They're useless?" I asked.

"Oh, absolutely," Julie continued, "When they were young, I had to do everything for them."

"You spoiled them," I said flatly.

Julie feigned shock, opening her mouth and giving me a slap on the shoulder. "I did not," she said, "Although I am being harsh. They both work hard."

We finished cleaning up as the sun rose and shone into the place. I managed to shave, thankfully, so I was back to a suitable state for meeting people of importance. The others awoke soon afterwards. Armen and Ciara both had bed hair as they came out, a sprig of black and blonde hair out of place on opposite sides of their heads. They had been sleeping face-to-face, producing the amusing hair sync. Tam on the other hand entered the yard in perfect order; hair combed, sand-colour uniform on, and weapons on her back and hip. They joined us in the middle of the yard, and we exchanged good mornings.

"So, today's the day," yawned Armen, "Are you ready?" He was addressing me, and I would have rather not thought about it.

"No problem," I lied.

"I'm sure you'll do fine," Ciara assured me, "After all, this has to be easier than fighting." That wasn't strictly true, not with my arsenal, but I suppose it carried less risk as long as I didn't overplay my hand.

"You better get dressed," said Tam to Julie and I, "If we keep this... Baron waiting, he won't like it." Men in charge rarely like being kept waiting, that's for sure. Women in charge, even less so, actually. We nodded to her, and went back upstairs to change without another word.

I dressed as formally as possible. I made sure there was no dirt in my rank insignia or on the symbols of my world, that the golden icon on my beret was polished, that my boots weren't out of order. Clean clothes, armour, bayonet, combat webbing, ammunition, grenades, mace and kite shield, handcannon, firelance. I layered myself to intimidate, both with my weapons and my person. It was a trick I had to pull before, talking to tribal leaders and UN diplomatic pukes alike. I was very pleased with myself when I checked the over-polished metal that served as a mirror.

Julie was taking longer, and the reason was that she had opted for a dress instead of her work clothes or the uniform I had given her. I questioned this as soon as I was done with myself, but it was a very elegant thing. It was a deep red, a dark scarlet through and through, with a reasonably wide bottom like you would expect of a dress before the development of the fashion industry.

"I'm supposed to be newly-betrothed," said Julie, "You know, happy and celebrating it? My sisters might wonder what I'm thinking if I don't show up like this. This is Orlais, remember?" As you can tell, Julie might have been a commoner, but she was no peasant either. There is a word on Earth, bourgeois, that applies. It explains a lot of what happened later, that particular fact. Peasants don't tend to be the ones to rock boats, they're too busy working to survive.

"Whatever that means," I said, "Why aren't you coming with me to meet the Baron anyway?"

"Trust me, you do not want me there when you meet him," Julie said forcefully, as she struggled to do the strings up on her back. I went over to her and helped, not able to watch her fight them any longer. Once that was done, I put my hands on her hips from behind, and she put her hands over mine.

"The baron is a good man," Julie continued, "But I am not sure how he will react to this."

"To what?" I asked.

"To the face of our deception," she said, slapping my hands away from her stomach, "Anyway, go wait in the courtyard."

"Yes, Your Majesty," I joked, and left the room.

When I exited the house, Tam was inspecting a newly washed Ciara while Armen looked on, enjoying the spectacle. The horses were watching too, while they ate. Yet another moment where I had to stop and appreciate that while she was an efficient killer, Tam had also been raised from childhood to be a surrogate mother. Ciara was still young enough to trigger her training. Armen probably was too, but he was a mage, so no doting over him. Still, Ciara didn't seem to mind too much.

I sat down on a bench outside, and Tam stopped her fussing to join me. Allowing Armen to move in and make a joke, which sent Ciara giggling loudly. They were an interesting pair, I thought. I was happy for the mage though. He had been through a lot, I knew, and there was more to come. Not sure if I felt the same for Ciara, I didn't see her as prepared for the trouble.

"Where is Julie?" asked Tam, rubbing her hands together.

"Getting dressed," I replied, "How are you feeling?"

"Like I can breath again," she said, stretching out, "Sleeping a lot better than I was before, thanks to you two."

"Happy to hear it," I said.

Tam's eyes went a bit glassy as they regarded me. Before I could wonder why, she leaned in and kissed me. It was not a modest one either. She grabbed my face lightly to hold me in place with one hand, while the other lay on my chest. We got closer, ignoring a hoot from Armen. If only the Qunari kissed more often, they'd win more followers.

She tasted like elfroot.

After a minute, Armen's amusement turned to warnings, and we separated to see what he was trying to say to us. I think we both would have liked to dunk him head first into a bucket, if it wasn't for the figure standing in the way. Someone I did not expect to see until at least the afternoon.

"Enjoying yourselves?" said Leha, "Because I'm going to enjoy this tale." She was wearing linen now rather than the leather of the previous night, a pendant of some sort in silver, but kept the same boots she had escaped the kitchen in.

I was rendered mute by her words. The dwarf's presence was unwelcome, particularly when I was about to set out to deal with someone who was likely as annoying as she was. While our fellow lover was well aware of the attraction between Tam and I, I didn't really know how she would feel about her being left out of this sort of thing. I needn't have worried.

"She knows," said Tam bluntly, "I asked her."

Now it was Leha who joined me in being surprised. I wouldn't have broached that topic in a million years, as it seemed too complicated to me. I had believed the whole thing was natural, but it was not. Tam was not shy about the subject in the slightest, and neither was Julie. They had come to arrangement, leaving little old me out deliberately. I could live with that, because the arrangement was good for me. The dwarf didn't look like she believed it, but I certainly did. The intruder's rude reappearance was grating my nerves though. I stood up, and she backed off a little. Which was gratifying.

"So, what brings you here?" I asked politely, making sure it was perfectly evident that I wanted an answer quickly. With a little brush of my hand across the pommel of my mace.

"Oh, right," Leha said in a rush, "Listen, you don't have much time..."

As you can expect by this point of this tome, her voice was drowned out. Shouting and horse hooves filled our ears from the street. I panicked. Tam and I drew our weapons, and moved quickly to cover the entrance. Armen spun his staff around, electricity arcing around it, preparing to discharge as much power as he could gather. The selector on my firelance clicked to automatic, and I waited for a target.

Around the corner rode five men on horseback, followed by about twice that number of footmen. Those behind the lead rider were guards. Dull-red masks that doubled as helmets, chainmail covered with blue cloth emblazoned in bright yellow with a tree and a mountain, longswords for the footmen and spears for those on horses. Their leader was much better equipped, wearing partial plate armour on his shoulders and upper torso. His mask was a brighter, enamelled red and encrusted with black pearls along its edge, and he had a sabre-like weapon by his side with a gold-rimmed scabbard. He was on a large white horse, with its own barding.

I thought of two things as I watched them assemble on the threshold of the property. The first that this number of men was no real threat, which caused me to relax a little. There might not even be any need to spill blood. The second thought was of a strange irony; Julie had probably made some of the things these men and women were carrying.

" _You_ are the Marquis de la Fayette?" asked the leader in surprise. I could hardly blame him. I was in full Earth-panoply. So was Tam. He hesitated at the sight of us, perhaps more so than I had anticipated. He had a deep timbre to his voice, but his accent had wavered with the question. I stepped forward, slinging my firelance again, and stood as tall as I could. How I thought a noble should stand.

"Lord Samuel Hunt, Marquis de la Fayette," I said clearly, "And to whom am I speaking?" Laying it on with a shovel is surprisingly effective when talking to people who expect it. Especially in Orlais. He seemed to appreciate the respectful tone.

"Baron Pierre des Arbes, the Lord of Hearth," he replied through his mask, "Where is Julie Marteau?"

 


	27. The House of the Rising Sun I

I couldn't answer the Baron. I just stared up at him, as if incapacitated by a lightning strike. I couldn't speak and I couldn't figure out why. Worse, there was an almost primal urge in me to object. Of course, as you're reading this you have already figured out why. For whatever reason, the idea of letting him see Julie was offensive to me. It went down to my very bones. I like to think it was my own regard for her, but the truth may be that it was something like male territorial instinct. We are all ugly creatures when what we think is ours is threatened, a truth that everyone has witnessed by now. Embarrassing in retrospect, and very much an overreaction. But we can't help how we feel.

Tam's presence did not help matters, adding an immediate desire to defend her to my fears. She was also an obstacle to what the man wanted. Which almost got people killed. I very nearly twitched the barrel of my firelance upwards when she answered on our behalf, unable to hide my distrust of the noble before me.

"She is inside, preparing to meet her sisters," Tam said, stepping forward with her sword in her hand, "What business do you have with her?" Which was the question on all of our minds.

The baron rode a little more into the yard, and his mask turned from me to face Tam. The Qunari wasn't intimidated in the slightest, and maintained a stance that she could spring from to decapitate the horse in a single motion. If she needed to. This calmed me down a good deal, as I saw that I wasn't the only one who found Pierre des Arbes an unwelcome visitor.

"Who are you?" Pierre asked politely, "A Qunari mercenary perhaps... this far south?" Even with a mask on, he appeared unable to understand Tam's presence.

Which made Leha's next words all the more satisfying. "This is Marteau's mistress," she said flatly, "And before you ask, I was as surprised as you to hear it." It surprised _me_ that Leha spoke so casually to the supposed lord of the entire region. Which made me very interested in a lengthy interrogation.

"I thought she spun that tale to delay me," Pierre said slowly, before turning back to Tam, "As well as fend off less worthy men."

"Perhaps you aren't as worthy as you thought," said Tam cheekily, spinning her sword around and sheathing it again. I determined to reward her somehow for that line, because the baron positively flinched at it, taking high offence at the implication that a commoner would reject him. Unfortunately, Armen gave out a small burst of chuckles despite his best attempt to hold it in, drawing attention to him and Ciara. No doubt there would have been a snarl on the face currently hidden by a mask.

"An apostate?" said Pierre, his tone now far less polite, "I suggest you stop laughing with your Dalish friend, and tell me why I shouldn't fetch your head for the Templars." At those words, several of the baron's men stepped forward, weapons readied. Ciara reacted, pulling out her straight dagger, which I was pleased to see. Tam drew her sword again almost casually. Armen just kept smiling, even as the charge on his staff kept building visibly, becoming like a lighthouse beacon pulsing every few seconds with blue arcs. All of which would have scared the living crap out of me if I was the target, even with my resistance to the Fade. We still had not tested the exact extent of my capability. However, I myself didn't move a muscle, having already worked out the details of what to say in this situation with the others.

"He is in my service," I said, deflecting attention back to me, "His knowledge is invaluable, and I have no intention of searching for another as good as he is." Playing the higher ranked noble, albeit a foreign one, was a dangerous gambit. I looked back at Armen, both to get him to say something along similar lines and to get his confirmation. He just shrugged, and relaxed his stance a little.

Pierre des Arbes wheeled his horse around again, and stopped in front of me. I saw his eyes examine me through the mask. I simply returned the gesture, evaluating the man. He was smaller than I was, but was of a similar build. Fighting him hand-to-hand would have been a pain, I could tell. He sat in the saddle like he had been born there, with ease and in perfect harmony with the animal. His armour was of a quality that might had even saved him from my handcannon, if the bullet struck him at an angle.

Des Arbes dismounted and removed his mask, revealing a handsome tanned face and dark-brown hair. His eyes were startlingly grey however, and piercing without the unique colour in their own right. He wanted to talk face-to-face, I realised. I guess it was my turn to be a little intimidated, but there was no way in hell I was going to show it. We squared off, an ice between us.

"I will ask you, Marquis," the baron said, finally getting to the point, "What business do you have here?"

I smiled, but said nothing, searching for the right words.

"Pierre!" came a surprised call from behind me. The voice being very familiar, I turned around with a groan.

Julie stood at her doorway, both hands on her hips. Her red dress looked dazzling in the low morning sun, the colour seeming to smudge off onto the wall beside her. Her hair was brushed out and looked better kept than I had ever seen it. And she was still wearing my boots. My knees went a bit weak at the sight.

Until the Baron pushed past me, and embraced her.

"Thank the Maker, you're alive and free," he said, "No one would guess you had ever been in prison!" Julie sighed, and returned the hug briefly before separating him from her.

Tam and I glanced at each other. We were both uncomfortable with the display. Julie just looked like she hadn't expected it, or perhaps she just had not expected it to happen in her courtyard. The guards backed off at least, moving to positions to block off the street just out of earshot. I guess they got the picture that it wasn't their business.

"I was only imprisoned for a few days," Julie explained, "Not even enough time to go mad."

Pierre smiled at the joke, unaware of the real events and how she may very well have been driven mad had another been selected for the grim task of breaking her. Which I resented of him.

"How were you freed?" he asked, "And what is your association with the Marquis?"

Julie grimaced, hesitant to tell him the story we had concocted. To be truthful, so was I. In the setting of a formal meeting, I would have been comfortable with it. With a bunch of guys ready to wade into us with sword and spear, I was considerably less so. Presumably, all of them could also be counted on to be completely loyal, so anything he said or did would also remain private, which would not have been the case at his baronial court. In the end, we can always rely on Tam to not care about the little nitpicks.

"The Marquis paid her parole and her debt," the Qunari said, "It was no small amount." Paid in blood too.

The Baron rounded back to me very quickly.

"In return for what?" he asked, "I cannot imagine it was a fair proposition." Phrasing.

I ignored him, looking to Julie for some instruction about how to respond. She frowned slightly, sympathising with my plight. Perhaps to stop the Baron from disbelieving me, or doing something stupid if he did believe me, she opted to tell him the lie herself.

"My hand in marriage," said Julie, "That was what I promised to get out."

Pierre stopped dead, as if frozen by a spell in a statue-like pose. Except for his eyes, which moved between all of us. His face was completely despondent, like... well, like his lover had abandoned him. I doubted their relationship was ever at that level, but he certainly wanted it to be. If his hanging around after this incident is any evidence.

"There were conditions," Julie added, trying to calm him, "One was that I be allowed to keep Tam as my mistress, another was that we would live here. It's not like you'll never see me again, he is sacrificing too. He's an explorer from the Far West, he could have brought me further away than anyone could have followed." She took his hands in hers, which sent a pang of jealousy through me. I'm not sure I would have been cheered by those words, but it woke the Baron from his state of shock. He looked back at me, his sense of superiority destroyed. The change shocked me.

"So I am beaten," he said.

"I'm afraid so," I replied softly, not wanting to rub it in any more, "Though not entirely by me."

His eyes tracked to the sword-wielding Tam. He understood and straightened up.

"Then I give you my sincere congratulations," the Baron said, "I shall take my leave."

"Wait, I told your guards that we had business," I interrupted, "That wasn't a lie."

"The Marquis wants to buy some land," said Julie.

Pierre tilted his head for a moment, thinking about it. His lips pursed, which didn't put much confidence in me that he would agree. Particularly after Tam and I had supposedly stolen his would-be wife. Or so I thought. He put his red mask back on and slipped back into his noblesse, as if his outburst of affection for Julie hadn't ever happened. I took that as a good sign.

"What do you need?" he asked, directing the question to Julie. Which was just as well, because as if I would know anything about real estate in a foreign country, in a feudal society, on a different planet, quite possibly in a different universe. And wouldn't ever have to.

"An estate, with a large freehold and residence," she said, "Something suitable." Which meant something suitable for a 'family' of our social position, I imagined. She wasn't the only one with demands though.

"Preferably somewhere not within sight of the town," Armen added, "I am no apostate, my lord, but there are tensions I would rather avoid." Like people who might call down hell on us.

"Oh, a garden too," said Ciara, throwing in her two coppers.

A veritable shopping list of desired features. I was half tempted to throw in a hot-tub and gymnasium equipment for the laugh.

The Baron walked away from us a few steps, turning his back and thinking about it. After a tense minute, he turned about and nodded, agreeing to the demands. Which I had not expected.

"There is one place I can hand over almost immediately," he said, "But there is a problem. The land is not freehold, it is divided into tithed plots as a manor. And the Marquis is higher ranked than I am."

"And you require an oath of fealty for us to buy that land," said Julie, before I could screw up and ask why it was a problem, "What can we do?"

"Oh, I could let you have it for free, on two conditions," Pierre said coyly, "First, I require an alliance between our two houses. Since marriage is not possible, you will have to swear an oath before the Chantry." It sounded like a pain in the ass, but words are wind and I had firelances.

"Done," I said quickly.

He hadn't expected me to agree so readily, I think. Perhaps because I was foreign, and he wasn't sure if I was Andrastian. I'm not, admittedly, my old faith was one of the few things that I kept from my life on Earth, as passive about it as I was. However, not paying for the land in return for helping this guy for a month or two was very doable, in my opinion. He could hardly object if I broke the arrangement later, with the assistance of UN troops holding him at gunpoint. Unfortunately for him, I would find out less than a day later that my sojourn in Thedas was permanent.

"What is the other condition?" Tam asked.

The question seemed to excite the Baron.

 


	28. The House of the Rising Sun II

"What do you mean its haunted?!" I asked loudly.

We were walking down the gravel-strewn road southwards, in the direction of the manor that would apparently be mine by dinnertime. It was only a mile's walk from the palisade gates, yet this road didn't seem to be well-travelled at all. In fact, the only people on the road were my fine self, Armen, Ciara and Leha. Julie had went with Tam to greet her sisters and tell them the 'big news', probably with the Baron tagging along like a bad smell. So the dwarf led us onwards to our destination, talking about the place like it was the gate to hell.

"No one who stays there ever comes out of it alive," Leha said, too casually, "There used to be nobles there, the Baron's cousins, but the House of Repose killed them all in one night about two years ago and the manor passed to him. The two managers he sent disappeared the day after he sent them, and the servants with them. It's a cursed place." The House of Repose just sounded like a band name to me, but if they killed an entire noble family in a single night, I didn't need much explanation beyond that. Assassins.

"And he wants me to wander around in it until we find the source of the curse?" I said, "He's trying to get me killed. Even if it isn't demons or possessed trees."

"Undoubtedly," said Armen, "It's all part of the Game. He wants Julie, but can't just kill you himself. His prestige is at stake if he didn't at least try to get you killed in an accident." The temptation to go back and put my foot up his ass was overwhelming. I'd like to see his prestige ever recover from that. Though one part of the mage's explanation caught my ear.

"You keep mentioning this... Game like it means something," I said, "What is it? The Game of Thrones?"

The other three looked at each other with a peculiar thought on their faces, as if I had said something far more witty than they expected from me. Which pissed me off.

"That's actually a very good way to put it," said Armen, "It's a game for power and prestige, involving murder, intrigue, spies, and marriage-bonds."

"Every place has something like that," said Ciara, "Even my old clan. It's just that the shems in Orlais take it to an art form, or so they'd say. You don't have anything like that where you're from?"

"In our country, it's money and the love of the people that decides things, usually," I mused, "Which of the two dominates depends on what the question is about." Money tended to decide things more often, though, it has to be said.

"Like Antiva then," said Leha, "The Far-West sounds like an interesting place."

"That it is," I said, not wanting to get into it, "Perhaps less interesting than the murder-trap we're walking into."

"Look on the bright side," said Armen, "You'll have triumphed over the Baron if you live." Which would tickle me, to say the least. Didn't answer the big question though.

"Why does a noble want to marry a commoner in the first place?" I asked, "Is Julie just so beautiful that she can get over that hurdle?" I certainly thought she was.

Leha laughed throatily at that, as if it was a joke.

"He's already married," she said, wiping tears from her eyes, "He wants her as a _mistress_."

Indignation rose up in my throat like bile.

"What," I growled, "The bastard."

"He's already married to some noble childhood friend of his, even has kids in Halamshiral," Leha explained, "It was a political marriage, they don't really love each other like that. Or so he told Julie. She plays the Game up there, does law-work for the Crown to increase her standing." I should have gotten more angry, but something had clicked in my mind, distracting me completely.

I had met Pierre's wife.

Cecile des Arbes. My prosecutor, or persecutor perhaps, in the farcical pre-trial proceeding I had went through before our escape from prison. I cursed loudly, thinking myself stupid for not realising sooner. Their family name was the same and they even wore very similar masks. It was just that so much had happened between the escape that I wasn't able to catch it. It was an unwelcome development to put it mildly, and I predicted to myself that I'd be shooting Pierre as soon as his wife came back for a visit. Which I was agreeable to, admittedly.

"Cheer up," said Ciara, mistaking my curses for despair, "She likes you. They both do." They meaning Tam and Julie both.

Those words helped, dissolving my fears instantly. The burning sensation in my head dissipated. Ciara was a perceptive girl, after all. "Thank you," I replied with a smile, "I hope so."

"I think the words you're looking for are 'she loves him', or he would hope so," said Leha, "They're betrothed, after all, even if it does reek of a political marriage as well." Perhaps it was. The plan wasn't for us to actually get married, but rather for us to escape to Earth. Her implication therefore didn't really offend me.

"You're saying that she is using him to advance herself?" chuckled Armen, "I don't think so."

"All I know is that she has both your lordship and the giantess wrapped around her finger," Leha continued, "And she's always had delusions about changing things."

"I'm perfectly fine being wrapped around any part of her," I joked, "Tam too."

"Just as long as you know," said Leha, "I'm here for the profits this is going to bring in. Looking to retire early and live like a queen. Nothing else."

"Then you and I are going to be good friends," I said. Of course, that was more true than either of us could have imagined.

Past a very leafy set of trees aligned in a row at the edge of the forest, the manor itself came into view, stopping our advance.

It was a mansion or a small palace to my eyes. Surrounding it was a stone wall to about waist height, tipped with sturdy metal fence. Beyond that was a courtyard paved precisely in a dark, smooth stone right up until the building itself. From the angle we were approaching from, its layout was plainly that of a thick square. There was a gate on the ground floor that led to an overgrown garden situated in the middle of the complex. There were various outbuildings as well, peasant housing and a stable from what I could see, but there were others I couldn't readily identify.

The building itself looked like it could take a serious hit or two even from weapons I would have been more familiar with, never mind a trebuchet or a cannon. The walls were all grey limestone or something similar, punctuated by tall windows, revealing that it had three floors. The roofs were sloped and covered in blue-black slate. Most of the windows were covered with wooden shutters, painted the same colour as the roof tiles.

It was a god-damned château.

"Well, that's creepy," I said, "It's empty, but it looks like it could hold hundreds of people. Too big." Also looked like every dead idiot from there to Tevinter could congregate, which was what I thought was going on.

"Nothing is too big for a nobleperson," said Armen, "Trust me."

"You types don't live in estates where you're from?" asked Leha, surprised at the revelation.

Afraid to give away my secret, I gave her the truth. Sort of.

"In the countryside, maybe. It's all high towers in the cities," I said, "I lived in the city." I hadn't lived in a skyscraper though. No way I earned enough for a condo in a central location. That's not what I was in the game for, so to speak, though I admired those who were. Like my brother and sister, both of whom were much more money-grubbing than I ever was before I came to Thedas.

"Well, get used to it," Leha said, finding a seat on a large rock, "The house is the last thing you need to worry about, what's inside it is a little more of a problem."

I sighed again. The Baron had said it was best to just take one other person with me to search, because large numbers of people didn't seem to be attacked. In the day time, at least. My suspicion that it was just a ploy to thin out our numbers was practically confirmed by that, to kill Armen and I in particular.

"You and you, stay here," I said to Leha and the mage, pointing at them and then the ground, "Ciara, you ready?"

The Dalish girl had got her hands on a shortbow made of unidentifiable bone and wood, courtesy of the fletcher that lived two doors down from Julie's smithy. Well, not courtesy of, he charged two silvers for it and Ciara had to haggle him down to that. To answer me, she began warming it up with a smile, before grabbing three arrows from a pouch to hold with it.

"Why do I have to stay?" asked Armen, almost pouting.

"To kill des Arbes if I die in there," I joked. He cocked his head with a huh, before seeming to accept it. Leha seemed pretty damn pleased not to be going in, crossing her legs and bouncing the raised foot up and down as she watched us with an attentive visage. Ignoring her obvious lack of real care for my life, I took a breath to steady myself for the inevitable BS to come, before waving Ciara over.

"Okay Scooby Doo, let's go unmask the bad guy," I said, marching forwards, "Need to earn those Scooby-Snacks."

Ciara practically skipped along beside me, not bothered by my joke. If you're confused about what I was talking about, you're not from around where I live. Or lived, if you're reading this a good number of years after I'm dead. Though I hear it's popular in Ferelden. A leak of information I couldn't have prevented.

We entered through the gated archway into the centre garden, myself in front with kite shield and mace ready and Ciara to the rear with an arrow nocked. Some would say this was a bit unwise, considering I had a firelance that could supposedly kill almost anything. However, after my experience with the sylvans and the 'haunted' reputation of the place, I had opted for something a bit more up close and personal, so I could exploit the ability against magical crap that I had gained. Bullets didn't seem to pick up the power, at least at ranges that made that sort of thing useful.

The garden was a jungle of weeds and bushes that hadn't been kept in years, the cross-roads style path nearly disappearing between the verges. Each section of the crossed path lead to another archway leading out, and between them in the walls were heavy doors that were almost certainly locked. On both the left and right, staircases rose from the corners of the buildings and reached over two of the arches, leading to the middle and top floors. I frowned, getting the ominous feeling you get when you know something is going to go absolutely pear-shaped.

"Well, at least it has a garden," Ciara chimed in happily, "It'll be great once it's trimmed." You'd need a chainsaw, my dear. Or a mage.

"Do you think this place has a basement?" I asked her wearily.

"Houses usually do here," she replied, "For keeping things cold in summer." No refrigeration, again. I decided that cutting right to the chase and going for the most cliché place to find the monster or ghost or psychotic killer wasn't what I wanted to do. I pointed at the right-side staircase with my mace.

"Well then, let's try the middle floor first and head up," I said, "I'm not suicidal enough to go straight for the basement just yet."

Ciara nodded rapidly, trusting my judgment. Which made me feel a bit old, but reminded me of the cheerful waitress she had been when I had first met her. I smiled back at her, and we took the stairs to the main level. We could see into the rooms all the way around once we had climbed halfway, but nothing moved. Encouraged, I tried the handle of the rather ornate door. When it refused me, a sharp kick brought it to heel, albeit at the expense of a large amount of sound.

"PIZZA DELIVERY!" I roared as I entered, doubling down on the noise, "DOUBLE PEPPERONI!" Standing in the corridor, I awaited a response to my ridiculous challenge with my shield up and my mace at the ready.

The wood making up the internal structure of the building creaked, including the floor below our feet, but nothing else stirred in the house as far as I could tell. Not even scurrying rodent feet, which I would have expected at the very least. I must have been smirking at my own wit, because Ciara shook her head at me.

"That was a bad idea," she said, her lyrical accent pronounced with disapproval.

"You're probably right, but I couldn't resist... Sometimes you just have to put them off-balance with a surprising line," I conceded, "Shall we take a tour of the palace?"

The corridors were all along the inside wall of the 'square' building, open all the way around and lined with windows. There was evidence that there had been paintings, bookcases or furniture in some places, but the place must have been cleared out of anything particularly valuable. There were no less than thirty six rooms on the middle floor. Most of them still had bed-frames without bedding, but little else. Some couches covered in sheets were left, sometimes ajar from where they should have been. Fireplaces still had unburned wood in them.

My overall impression was of a rush job to get as much out of the place as possible.

Despite the neglect, the paint and walls were holding up very well. There seemed to be no real peeling, just some fading of the colours where the sun could reach the wall during the day. No wildlife had got in either, from the missing smells. It was just wood in the air. What I found peculiar was a complete lack of dust in the place. I ran my finger over the headboard of a bed in the first room we checked out, and it came back pretty clean.

As for my impressions of the place as a potential home, it was definitely what we'd call a fixer-upper. I didn't think we'd ever be able to buy enough furniture to put into a place like this, and nor would we need to for a mere few months' stay. It was extremely extravagant, to say the least. Without more people, it would be a strangely lonely place too. However, with Armen potentially going to contact the mages, there would probably be a few more people around the place. Not to mention that the Baron talked of 'vassals', about which I had no idea at that point.

We completed the sweep of the middle floor, and still not feeling up to getting down to the basement, I directed us up a spiral staircase in the northwest corner of the building to check on the top floor. It was pretty much identical to the floor below, down to the room placements, except that the roof slanted inwards in each of the bedrooms.

"Nothing," said Ciara, as we checked what had to be the sixtieth door, not even bothering to enter the rooms at this point. She was getting frustrated, to my alarm.

"Tell me," I began, wanting to know why she was displeased at not finding ghosts, "Why did you leave your clan?" Armen had filled me in a little on the Dalish, and it seemed unlikely that members of groups like that would just up and leave.

"Adventure," said Ciara, looking into another room down the corridor, "I guess I.."

She didn't get to finish the sentence.

A loud groan of wood erupted from above, which saved my life. As I turned, shield up, a huge insect jumped down onto me. A spider, the size of which I had never seen before. My blood filled with fear and shock, as its weight slammed me to the ground on my back. Clusters of eyes stuck into a black carapace stared at me angrily, pincers making up its mouth snapping at my chest.

I struggled desperately to put the shield between me and the maw of the thing, the metal screeching with every glancing blow. Its front legs manoeuvred to pin me down, but swift kicks and strikes with my mace dissuaded that. I didn't seem to do much more though, the mace wasn't the ideal weapon to fight with from the ground. I couldn't get a full swing off to do some real damage, but if I dropped it for my handcannon, the spider would have been on me in milliseconds. I cursed like a sailor, streaming the insults off as I fought for my life.

A white-fletched arrow hissed into the spider's maw as its head drew back for another strike. The monster didn't make any noise, but it recoiled backwards in pain nonetheless, helped along with another kick from me. I scrambled away from it, as Ciara loosed another arrow into it. To my immense relief, she made her mark well, striking one of its eye-clusters. It shuddered on the spot, which sent a bolt of fear down my spine. My response was to unsling my firelance and aim, with the intention of putting five rounds rapid into the thing before it recovered and then gloating.

However, it could sense the danger, and scurried back the way it had came. Up an unfolding wooden stairway leading to a dark attic, twitching and scrabbling as it moved. I slapped myself on the helmet for my now-revealed mistake. _Of course_ the attic was a candidate location for where something would be hiding I thought to myself, positively startled by my own stupidity. Ciara approached, third arrow nocked and peered up. I was busy sucking in as much oxygen as I could, settling myself down a little.

"It nearly got you," she said, all business now, "Nasty thing." I was absolutely certain I'd be having nightmares about the moment for years to come, which made my appreciation of her presence all the greater.

"Yeah, I owe you big-time for this," I said, doubling over and breathing hard, "Thanks for saving my big dumb ass."

"My pleasure," said Ciara, "Fight's not over yet, it'll hide up there until we draw it out."

I had an idea about just leaving it up there until it bled to death. Its wounds weren't the kind you recover from. Except the doubts at the back of my head reminded me that I wasn't on Earth, and that the monstrous spider might even now be recovering from its wounds. Which meant we had to deal with it sooner, rather than later.

"So much for the haunted theory," I said with a frown, "We're going up there, unless it's a bad idea?"

Ciara shook her head. "I've only seen giant spiders in forests and caves," she said, "Only thing for it is to get in and destroy the nest."

Nest? Wonderful.

"Are there more than one of them?" I asked.

"That one was carrying an egg-sack, so I don't think so," said Ciara, not sounding sure. Which did little to reassure me. I hadn't seen any eggs. Just murderous eyes and too much pincer.

"I'll draw it out," I said, "You shoot from the stairs." I really didn't want to, but the thought of using a sixteen year old as bait for a carnivorous spider would have been more grating on my sense of self. With nothing else for it, I snapped my flashlight onto the barrel of my firelance, turned it on and began climbing. The wood groaned again under my weight, announcing my presence.

The attic was as large as the corridor below, the roof slanting on two sides. It was ribbed with both large wooden supports and chimneys ascending from the fireplaces below. I had expected to see desiccated husks of dead human beings, but none were there. If I stood in the exact middle of the space, I had just enough room to stand up comfortably under the slate and wood to see. Ciara came up behind me, her eyes glinting slightly in the darkness as elvish eyes tend to do. Relying on her to cover my back, I aimed down to the corner directly in front of me.

Sure enough, there the spider was, writhing in pain. It must have hit the arrows stuck inside of it off of something, because it was bleeding far more profusely than before. Infuriated that it had put me in a compromised position, I raised my firelance once more and shot it once. The bullet went through-and-through, impacting the wood behind with a thud followed by a splatter of blood. I had hit the bulbous part of its body, and it collapsed dead. I fired a few more shots for good measure on reflex, for my own gratification.

"Hunt!" shouted Ciara from the gloom behind me. I spun around, just in time to illuminate another giant spider. I couldn't get a clear shot past without hitting her, to my distress. I thought the thing would be on her, her bow unable to hurt it enough. I scrambled forwards. She proved more able.

The young Dalish huntress loosed an arrow. It whispered over her gloved hand and straight into the middle of the spider's … face. The creeping sprint that it had been in the middle of suddenly veered off to the side, and to my astonishment, the spider impacted a pair of shutters and tumbled out of the window. The attic flooded with sunlight as we stood for a moment, not sure what exactly had happened. Until Ciara turned around to me, a big smile on her face.

"That was a good shot, wasn't it?" she asked happily, "Didn't think it would jump out the window though."

I laughed, all my fears released by the sheer absurdity of what had happened and Ciara's own oblivious confidence. Armen was a luckier man than I had previously thought.

"You probably hit its brain," I said, "Put an arrow through my head, and I might accidentally jump out a window too." Ciara laughed again at that.

I strode over, put on my sunglasses and had a look down. The spider was below on the stone patio, laying on its back gravely wounded but still alive. A chance to exact revenge.

"Help me drag that other one over here," I said to Ciara, "And we'll finish up."

* * *

With some difficulty, we tossed the dead spider out of the window and shut it again, before descending again to the courtyard. A few glances down the stairs showed that there were what I thought were storerooms on the ground floor, and basements below that. No more spiders, thank God. I could live a thousand years and it would still be too early to see more of them. Too bad I would.

Ciara and I exited the overgrown garden through the archway just behind where the spiders had fallen, which happened to be the same one we entered from. Armen and Leha looked over, and I gave them a small wave to hurry them closer.

"Spiders?" Armen asked, gingerly poking one of the monsters' bodies with the end of his staff, "So, no curse?"

"Looks like it," I replied, "They were hiding in the attic."

"No bodies either," said Ciara, "Wonder where they put them?"

"Probably dumped them somewhere outside," said Leha, "Surface spiders tend to do that, to keep the nest clear."

"I wonder how they got in there," I said, looking up at the windows, "The place was locked up tight before we came along."

"The House of Repose," Leha mused, "They could have left the spiders as hatchlings, they sometimes leave nasty surprises for the friends of targets, if their clients request it." Just for shits and giggles, I guess? Orlesian nobles are vindictive sons of bitches. Everyone knew that, but I was learning.

"Or they could have just crept in some other way," said Armen, "It doesn't really matter as long as you're both alive." Ciara smiled and went over to him, and they did the goo-goo eye thing for a bit.

The spider that jumped began moving its legs slowly, curling and straightening to fight to get its bearings. The others all backed off. I approached and inspected it. Sure enough, it looked like the spider was still conscious on some level. Its many eyes tracked me as I walked past its head. I stopped in front of it, so it could watch as I ended its life. I guess I'm a vindictive son of a bitch too. Pissed that I had been jumped, I pulled the magazine out of my firelance, checked it, and slapped it back in. Ready.

"What's that?" asked Leha, getting interested now. From a distance.

"You'll see in a minute," I replied, not moving my gaze from the spider's own. Leha didn't respond, probably because she was wondering if I was mad. I was after all holding a strange piece of metal that didn't seem to have much function.

Before I could shoot, the sound of a horse's hooves drew my attention, and I skirted the dying spider again to see. Tam was riding up on Fritz quickly, through the road's gap in the hedgerow and onto the paved environs of the mansion itself. Her helmet was off.

"What's she in a hurry for?" asked Armen.

"I guess we're going to find out," I replied, waving to her.

Tam slowed the horse as she approached close by, and dismounted beside me. With a glance at the spiders, she hugged me briefly before speaking.

"Julie is bringing her sisters to meet you," said Tam quickly, "But the Baron brought the Revered Mother. She sent me ahead to warn you, they are only a minute behind me."

Warn me? I smirked, realising that this was an excellent chance. Pierre des Arbes had possibly sent me here to die. I hadn't, yet the job of clearing the 'curse' was not yet entirely complete. It was time for a demonstration of my capabilities. One that would dissuade the Baron from another such transparent attempt to separate our group, as well as convince him that I was a useful friend to have. There was one snag, however.

"Ciara, Armen, are you going to stay to meet the priestess?" I asked, not sure if that would cause trouble or not, "I'll back your play." The two elves looked at each other, before standing their ground. Which pleased me.

"I have no intention of hiding," said Armen firmly, "I am no crazed blood mage." Good man, I thought.

"And I can pretend to believe in the Maker for a few minutes," Ciara joked.

"Me too," I replied. Assuming the Maker and my Creator aren't actually the same deity, or if both exist but Thedas is the Maker's realm rather than God's. Or neither exist, though I don't believe that. Still haven't really figured that out, which is why none of my children and grandchildren share my exact faith. I've simply made an assumption on the matter and left it at that, but we'll get to that.

"I'm not sure I can," said Tam, "Who would believe that I believe?" It was a good point, but I had a solution.

"Then ask to convert if it becomes a problem," I replied, "Preachers love people who come to them for guidance, it's the whole point of being a preacher." Tam rubbed her neck, like she didn't like the idea, but didn't seem to have any other ideas.

The thumping of more horses came down the road ahead of the actual horses. Perfect timing, I thought, removing my own helmet and replacing it with my blue beret.

"Okay, can you guys get out of the way for a second?" I asked, "Move a little more over there." I indicated away from the archway and the spiders, so the riders would have a clear view of what I was doing. They complied, and turned to watch the newcomers arrive.

Inevitably, the Baron led the way, this time with only two retainers on horseback. He was still dressed in his armour and mask. Behind him was a young woman in robes on a brown pony, with short blonde hair and sharp eyes. This had to be the priestess, I knew. I guessed it was the 'firebrand' that Julie had talked about too, rather than the elder whom had taught people to read. Perhaps I should have thought of that as a bad sign.

At the back, Julie rode with her half-sisters. They were both olive-skinned, though the shape of their faces was different to hers, obviously the result of their parentage. They wore dresses too, albeit more modest ones than the scarlet of the eldest. I have to say they were very beautiful in their own right and in different manners. Of course they were, they were related to Julie. I couldn't figure out from that distance which one was Élodie and which was Claire, the former's baby-bump not visible yet. Sorry, Earth terminology again.

I turned around from the approaching group, and back to the spiders. I raised my firelance to my shoulder, aimed at the barely-alive spider and shot a burst into it. With messy results. As horses neighed loudly behind me, the regular _clip-clop_ of their shoes turning irregular, I sent another burst into the dead one for good measure. Perhaps a waste of ammunition, but I still had thousands of bullets for the firelance at this stage. And it had the effect I wanted.

I flicked the safety on and checked the results. As expected, the newcomers were all flabbergasted, except for Julie, who looked like she was watching a movie with popcorn. Incidentally, Leha's eyes looked like they'd pop out of her head, which was a nice bonus. Excellent. I smiled graciously, and after nodding to Tam to follow, moved towards our guests with a casual gait.

"Marquis, what in the name of the Maker..." began the Baron, his voice wavering as he tried to express himself.

"It was giant spiders killing everyone, not spirits," I said, passing him by and paying him no real heed, "No bother at all." An outburst of disbelief or exasperation erupted from behind the mask, very ignobly.

The Chantry mother watched both of us as we passed, particularly Tam, who tapped the top of her dagger with her palm when she was level. Instinct, I guessed. Not that the priestess would have been any match in a fight, but the hostility was pouring off of her. Firebrand indeed.

Finally, we came to Julie. I took her free hand and kissed it gently, eliciting a confused look, before turning to her sisters. One was in a light brown workdress, another was in a blue dress.

"Ladies, I am Lord Samuel Hunt, the Marquis de la Fayette," I said with a theatrical short bow, "I presume I have the pleasure of meeting Élodie and Claire?" I was getting results on the etiquette of being a noble simply by playing to popular notions of the concept from Earth. It was a good laugh, behaving like some guy out of an old movie. The two sisters' pairs of deep brown eyes looked me over, trying to decide what to make of me. I was genuinely happy to meet them.

"You do," said Élodie finally, distinguishable in her blue dress and long braided hair as the older of the two, "You saved Julie?"

"Well, I had the help of Tam here," I said modestly, as the Qunari stepped forward, "I'm sure you know all about her already." Claire nodded, her eyes agape with wonder. I guess Julie had spun the mistress tale pretty deep with her youngest sister. Élodie looked less impressed, even disapproving.

"I did what I could," Tam added, inclining her head to them with a warm smile of her own. And what she could was disembowel the gaoler. Good thing Baldy had deserved it, I thought.

"What did you do just now?" Claire asked, a very Julie-like curiosity on her face, "To the spiders, I mean." The others had dismounted and joined the circle by now, and their faces revealed a great deal of curiosity on that very subject as well.

"Just used a weapon from my country," I said with a wave of my hand, "Big spiders aren't any real threat." Which was perhaps a little too flippant, even if it did earn me another outburst from Pierre. Mission accomplished on the demonstration of my capabilities, at any rate.

"That is enough bragging out of you," joked Julie, nudging me, "I know you're trying hard to impress them, but there are limits." I suppose I was trying to impress them. Or at least, to upstage the Baron. I threw my hands up in jest surrender.

"Okay, I give up," I said, "But you should come take a look at our new home, meet our friends."

"An apostate mage, a Dalish and a Qunari?" came the honeyed, formal voice from behind, "What manner of friends are those?" The Revered Mother spoke to me. Her words rubbed me the wrong way entirely, both being out of turn and insulting. When I turned to her, I found the Baron equally offended. Which was a strange sensation.

"They're all Andrastian. As am I, thanks to Julie. The mage is a healer," I said, "I intend to set up a hospital." An idea that came to me a split-second before. Medical care is high on the priority list for the United Nations, so I suppose it came more or less naturally. I had no doubt such a thing would be true of a religious leader. Of course, the problem was that hospitals didn't exist in Thedas.

"A hospital?" the Revered Mother asked, "What is that?" Jackpot.

"A place where the sick and injured can find treatment," I said over my confusion, "My country values such things."

"The Marquis is from the Far West, as I have told you," explained the Baron, "Marquis, this is Revered Mother Héloise Brandon of the Hearth Chantry."

"A noble ideal," the Mother said, "Perhaps there is hope for you after all." Her features softened a good bit, though it took the space of Tam shifting her weight on her feet for them to return to the hard-ass image this cleric clearly liked to show.

"I certainly think so," I said cheerfully, dissembling my irritation at her racism against my lover away. She didn't appear to catch my deception, though her type rarely can.

The Baron walked up to me, nodded to himself and slapped me on both shoulders. Which was almost as alarming as the giant spider landing on me. Or perhaps it is more accurate to say that was another spider, just one of a different kind.

"You have done what I asked, against my expectations," he said, "Shall we confirm our alliance?"

With the mask on, I couldn't read whether or not he meant me further harm or intended to use me. Either possibility would have brought trouble. However, seeing no other choice and with the expectation of rescue, I could only agree to it. I would find out what he intended soon enough. Still, I looked to both Julie and Tam before speaking. Both looked encouraged.

"I think that's for the best," I said.

 


	29. Spirits in the Sky I

_The Marquis de la Fayette, Lord Samuel Hunt of the United Nations of Earth hereby exchanges pledges of honour and allegiance with Baron Pierre des Arbes of the Empire of Orlais, Lord of Hearth and the Dalish Hearthlands. Their friends shall be one, and their enemies shall be one. From the date set hereby, both shall ever raise their swords in the common defence of each other, and both shall defend the Hearthlands with their lives. The Baron Hearth, in recognition of this, grants the Marquis de la Fayette the manor of Ancienmaison. The Marquis de la Fayette, in recognition of his disposition, grants the Baron Hearth overlordship over him and his holdings, including appropriate troop levies, taxes and Chantry tithes._

_Witnessed at Ancienmaison, in Solace of the thirty-eighth year of the Dragon Age, by Revered Mother Héloise Brandon, Mother of Hearth._

This was the pledge I signed after a rather tedious religious ceremony involving the threat to our immortal souls should we be lying about our pledges. My signature on it was a random scribble, as I could hardly set down my actual name in Latin letters for them. Armen was sent away beforehand by the Mother as to not sully the ritual, which he was quite glad about. Ciara went with him to go hunting instead, as we had yet to eat anything but nearly-stale bread. My stomach was grumbling throughout the chanting, and I think I wore down my teeth grinding them.

When it was over, the Baron rode off with his retainers first, followed shortly by Mother Brandon. The latter was very quiet after the ceremony, almost melting into the background as I shook hands with des Arbes. This struck me as strange, given the Chantry's reputation that Armen had built up in my mind and what Julie had said about this particular cleric. I expected a lecture, a stern warning or even a death threat should I not comply with the laws on the matter of magic. I was a little relieved when none of those possibilities materialised, putting it down to noble privilege. I should have been suspicious instead.

I led Julie, Tam, Leha, Élodie and Claire around the château for about an hour, firelance still at the ready. It turned out that eastern ground floor corner rooms were reception halls of some kind, chandeliers still in place, varnished wooden floors and wall panels in perfect condition. The basement had metal cages on it that we couldn't open, guarding a large wine cellar that hadn't been emptied and areas for food storage. So we were now apparently the owners of a lot more booze than we had anticipated. It was too grand for the likes of me, but I put a brave face on. After all, it appeared that Julie still hadn't told her sisters of the real situation. For their own protection, you understand, they were not warriors.

Both were very impressed by our new manor, at least. Though how the hell we were possibly going to live there was a mystery, never mind maintain the whole noble image. The expense would be massive, as far as I could tell. Something told me that blagging through it for a month wasn't going to cut it. Which is why that wasn't the plan.

* * *

Long story short, we all ended up back in Julie's courtyard in Hearth, having a lunchtime barbecue, roasted over a huge fire. I had wondered previously why there was a pit in the middle of the place, but I guess my question was answered. There was a decent stew going too, if I recall correctly. We dragged the table from the kitchen and sat around it eating and joking about Leha falling drunk on it, talking about nothing important in particular. There was some talk about how casual I was when drunk, for a noble, despite clearly acting like one at other times. It was fairly easy to explain that my countrymen used that sort of meal to relax and talk with their fellows regardless of class. So it was all very lighthearted. Well, until the inevitable questions came up.

Of course, it was Élodie who asked, being the sensible one. She even made sure most of the others were involved in their own talk before asking.

"So, Marquis... What do you intend to do in Orlais?" she asked, "Now that you must stay in Hearth." Clearly, the terms of our false arrangement had been explained to her in detail. I could only gawk at how much like Julie she looked like for a moment, freshly reminded of it by her question. Their faces were nearly identical, except for the brown eyes. She had remained pretty quiet until then, unlike Claire who was talking rapidly to Tam.

"I intend to live quietly," I said, "Keep my head down, avoid any trouble, and enjoy myself if I can." While I wait for the air cavalry, I might have added.

"So you won't play the Game?" asked Élodie, eyes narrowed. Concern for her sister was what I saw.

"How can I?" I replied with shrug, "I'm a foreigner."

Both she and Julie laughed at the absurdity of that, and I smiled, knowing that it would be impossible to keep out of the politics of the land after declaring myself a noble. Not to mention the machinations of the Baron and the Revered Mother, both of which I foresaw would be a serious problem. However, I was confident. It was only temporary.

"You're now a landed knight of Orlais," said Julie, shaking her head with a grin, "Your name will be registered with the Council of Heralds in Val Royeaux. Maybe no one will care, because we don't have very much land. Or maybe every noble in the Dales may ask themselves who you are." Good thing I hadn't stuck with Clint Eastwood as a name, or I might have been in trouble. Though I still intended to avoid every social occasion that the Baron would probably host, for fear of meeting his wife and being exposed.

"How do you know so much about what happens between nobles here?" I asked Julie, finding it odd.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Julie replied, before eating a small piece of halla. She was teasing me again.

"A piece of advice, my dear sister; don't keep secrets from your betrothed," Élodie said, "She has been involved in many... incidents with the nobility before. Often with less than respectable company." Respectability was evidently a value that Élodie placed highly, albeit not at the expense of her relationship with her family. It was actually rather amusing, considering her age.

"It is not my fault that the only people who want to make some coin at the expense of the chevaliers are thieves and whores," shrugged Julie, "It's funny though, one of those incidents is how I met Pierre." Élodie's lip curled up in disapproval, but she said nothing, instead taking a swig from the ale in front of her in the most lady-like fashion she could. Like I said, proper at all times. The last part of Julie's response intrigued me.

"How _did_ you meet the Baron?" I asked. Which almost caused Élodie to spray out her drink, before she swallowed and began coughing. Leha turned from listening to Armen and Ciara to us instead, with a decidedly neutral face. Signs that the story was a good one, at least. Even if my question was unexpected.

"I was in a chevalier's house during a party with a few other people," Julie explained, "Looking out for trouble in a servant disguise while a friend did something." A friend quite possibly meaning Leha, but I didn't stop her.

"So along comes the Baron up the corridor, taking off his mask," she continued, "Our eyes meet, and then... well, he isn't exactly ugly, is he? I had to do something." He was many things, but ugly wasn't one of them, I have to admit. The implication being that they jumped into a storeroom or something. To be honest, I would have done the same thing if given half the chance.

"Julie, this isn't a good thing to talk about," said Élodie with a grimace, "I mean, you're supposed to be pure before marriage. Or at least pretend to be."

"He asked!" said Julie, "Should I lie?"

"No, but..." Élodie began again.

"It is no problem," I sighed, "I don't mind. Don't worry about it."

The middle sister stared at me for a moment. "You are more tolerant than some, Marquis," she said at last, "You truly are an aristocrat." Not sure if that was meant to be a compliment, but I took it at face value. The nobles in any society get away with more improprieties.

"So you're not a little angry?" Julie asked flatly. Not sure if she was disappointed that I wasn't jealous or just surprised. Alas, that sort of thing is water under the bridge for me.

"No," I said sincerely, "Not even slightly." After all, who was with her now? Well, who was sharing her with a beautiful Qunari exile, to be more accurate. I looked over at Tam. She seemed to be having fun telling a story to Claire. I doubted she cared either. In fact, I was sure she already knew.

"Aww, isn't that nice," remarked Leha sarcastically, "The guy gets the girl, the girl gets to be a marquise, everyone is happy." Her cynicism made me want to throw a little of my drink her way, except it was too warm to waste it in such a way. I settled for a rude gesture, once I was sure that Élodie couldn't see. The dwarf returned it immediately. She always did see Julie as playing the angles whenever I saw her as doing good, though given what has happened, both viewpoints on the subject of my lover's motivations may in fact be valid. It's a difficult thing to want to change the world, and it makes you hard.

Phrasing.

"And who would pass up such an thing?" Élodie asked, the question rhetorical, "It seems like a wonderful opportunity." She herself had married as much to climb the social ladder as for love, though the latter was there in her case. I spoke to her husband very rarely, and their personalities were quite similar. Or perhaps it was just their ideas about manners.

"Orlesians," sneered Leha, "Almost as bad as the dwarva who stick to the caste rules up top. I swear, can't you just find someone who has your back and stick, instead of all this manoeuvring?"

I gazed at her in surprise. "I didn't take you to be a sentimentalist, Leha," I said, before taking a gulp of ale.

"It's not about sentiment, it's about trust," she said, "Most people are trying to play each other. Play the Game, as you lot would say. It's only right that you have at least one person you can trust."

"And where is yours, hm?" joked Julie, a little cruelly.

"I don't go for tall folk," Leha insisted, "Unfortunately, most surface dwarva are thieves, liars and/or murderers. Not exactly great material to work with." Considering she was at least two of the three, that was rich.

"All the better than I found someone who isn't a thief, a liar or a murderer then," said Julie. I had to restrain a laugh, as I had stolen, lied and killed in the past two weeks or so. All to survive, yes, but despite the fates throwing everything they could at me, it still felt like my fault somehow. Not least events like the battle on the hilltop against Duval's men.

"Do you know when you're getting married?" Élodie asked, moving the conversation in a less Leha-oriented direction, "I can't imagine it will be soon."

"No, we're going to wait," Julie said, "Summerday next year seems likely." Her sister nodded her head with approval.

"Good, that's the best time for it," she said, "The Maker blesses those who marry then." She patted her belly slightly, showing what she meant by that. I had almost forgotten she was pregnant, and the reminder was timely.

"Congratulations, by the way," I said, "I have many nephews and nieces. Children are funny. Though I'm told they are a lot of work."

"Thank you, Marquis," Élodie said, smiling at me for the first time, "I appreciate it." Her importance in the years to come was far from small, and without knowing it, I had laid yet another of the foundation stones for events to come.

* * *

A few hours later, Julie's sisters wished to return home as the sun began to get lower in the sky. Having still not seen the town in daylight, I offered to escort them back. They agreed, which I was glad for, and we picked up Tam to help too. Considering we were fully decked out in Earth-panoply, with our weapons and helmets on our belts, I doubted anyone would accost us on the street. Anyone who did would have died instantly, and not by my hand, but it wouldn't be necessary. We were going to have a pleasant walk back. In stark contrast of what the night would bring.

The streets were full of people still, going about the last business of the day before they would disperse for some leisure. Many were in hoods, a phenomenon I had noticed in Halamshiral but not fully understood. Of course, these were elves, looking to avoid trouble for being what they were. Hearth was in the Dales, so the majority of the population was elven, but the power rested with humans. A demonstration of both facts would be coming soon, little did I know. Nor were the elves the only ones donning headgear as a matter of course. Élodie and Claire had both put on half-masks, the latter in a light blue colour and the former with a decadent purple tone. Apeing the nobility was practically the mark of the middle class, as far as I could tell. All the merchants we passed on the road were wearing half-masks too. Status is very much visible in Orlais.

"Marquis, what brought you to our little corner of the world?" asked Claire, "The Far West is... far away." Thus spoke the youngest of the sisters in a manner Julie would have. She might not have looked like the eldest as much as the middle sibling, but her mannerisms were entirely the same; bordering on the whimsical at the best of times. I smiled at her words, the familiarity all too present.

"He's an explorer," said Élodie, before I could answer, "He came to discover and understand the people here. Perhaps to open the way to an invasion." That last assumption wiped out my smile, as it was a little too close to the truth for my liking. Not out of my own intentions of course, but if my countrymen did find a way to Thedas, _they_ would want to take what they could. Élodie was clearly drawing from her own world's experience with Tevinter, the Qunari, perhaps even the darkspawn as well, so I spoke to reassure her.

"My job was to boldly go where no one had gone before, to seek out new life and new civilisations," I said in jest, arms raised outwards to gesture towards the town in general, "How dare you accuse me of being the vanguard to an attack!" Claire giggled a little, glancing at her sister as if to say 'see?'.

"I'm sure those spiders would have disagreed," Élodie said, "Weapons the Qunari would cower at, strange manners, a whole other written language. You are a mystery, Marquis. A dangerous one, if there is an empire of people like you out there somewhere."

"I have no intention of staying mysterious, my lady," I lied, "I am here to explore, I'll need to talk to people." Intelligence gathering generally does require that. Or at least, listening to people. Élodie seemed content with that answer, walking along silently.

"What did you do before you became an explorer?" Claire asked.

"I was a soldier and a peacekeeper," I replied, having no reason to lie about that , "I still am, actually."

"So you upheld the law?" she said, "Like the Baroness?"

I frowned at the mention of Cecile des Arbes. I just couldn't get away from the fact she would recognise me instantly. It was hardly the time for thinking too much about that, so I answered quickly.

"I was sent to warzones to separate warring groups," I explained, "To protect people who weren't fighting, to make sure no one was violating the rules of war, to defeat those who were, and to rebuild villages and towns." Or in a lot of cases, to watch helplessly as people were slaughtered while awaiting authorisation to attack. At least, that's how it was in the early days of my time in the desert. The international politics of Earth are far more complex than that of Thedas, so not everyone was on board with attacking certain factions in the civil war we were sent to sort out. There were around two hundred countries when I left, and undoubtedly there are more now. If anyone's alive, that is.

"That's a strange thing," Claire remarked, "I think things would be better if we had something like that in Orlais."

I felt a pang of sympathy for her. Her father had been taken by armed conflict, after all, and it was clear that was what she would have wanted peacekeepers for. For the moment, I said nothing. Perhaps when my countrymen did arrive, they could put a stop to that sort of thing entirely. Peace through superior firepower. A phrase that shall probably be etched on not only my memorial, but that of Julie and Tam as well, incidentally. A pity, considering all I wanted to do was be left alone.

"Maybe it would be better," I conceded, "But I don't think your nobility would like such interference."

Élodie snorted at that. "They'd prefer to die, I think," she said, "I'm surprised your own kind allow it."

"Well, there's a reason for that," I said, "There were two wars, one a century ago and another about seventy years ago. They were bloody, unlike anything you can imagine. Kingdoms fell to pieces, and millions perished. After that, my nation and many others came together to prevent wars of that scale from happening again, because they threaten everyone."

"Sounds like a Blight," said Claire, "I don't really remember what happened when it happened last time, I was too young."

I reminded myself to ask Armen what a Blight was when I returned to the smithy, as this was now the second time the word had been used in my presence and I was beginning to suspect there was a little more to it than a disease affecting potato harvests. Which is what a blight is on Earth.

"Be glad that you don't remember," I said, getting a hum of approval from Élodie in the process.

We finally reached a large house on a terrace, in a part of town that was slightly less dirty than the others and was a little less busy too. Gabled roof, large windows with shutters, arched doorway and fresh-looking paint on the walls. I was impressed. Evidently, Élodie's family did well for itself. Goods trade, in case you were wondering how exactly.

"Well, I guess this is goodbye for now," I said, "I'm sure I'll be seeing a lot more of you."

"Thank you, Marquis," Élodie replied, with a little curtsy, "I hope you treat my sister well."

"I will," I said.

The two sisters entered the house and the door shut. I headed back the way we had come, with more questions than answers and hoping I had made a good impression. The next month or two of waiting would be hell otherwise, I thought as I dodged gaggles of pedestrians.

 


	30. Spirits in the Sky II

When I returned, I found Julie in the forge building with Tam.

It was a tall and wide space made entirely of stone from top to bottom, with pieces of metalworking equipment tucked into every possible corner. Two forges dominated the space to either side, seemingly having different purposes. Tools were stored everywhere, and there were three anvils in the middle of the space. At the back were complete and incomplete products; a few sets of plate armour, weapons, farming tools, nails and arrowheads in boxes. Pretty much what you'd expect to see. I wandered over to the rear to examine some of these. Julie was busy fussing over some of the chainmail we had taken from the dead on the hilltop, trying to restitch a loop of metal into one of the holes I had made with my firelance while Tam watched in amusement. As you can imagine, both had changed clothes at this point. The forge wasn't a clean place.

"You going to stand over there forever?" asked Julie through her exertions, after a few minutes of me picking up swords and having a swing of them, "Did you get my sisters home?"

"Sorry, was just curious to see what sort of things you make. Your sisters are safe," I replied, placing a sword back on a rack, "What are you doing?"

"Getting these ready for sale," said Julie, "From what the Grand-Duke's chevalier told us, I think prices on armour are going to go up." I wondered a little if continuing her trade might blow the whole 'acting noble' cover, but I wasn't going to take it away from her for the sake of it. She'd probably shoot me if I tried, for a start.

"Will that bring in a lot?" I asked, hoping that the money would at least be handsome.

"A fortune, if her mutterings are right," said Tam, standing up and picking up another set, "We might be living in luxury for our last few months here." If only.

"We can hope," Julie said, holding up the chainmail to inspect it, "Once I get my apprentices back, we can even do some extra work to complete the sets, add some plate sections and gloves."

Armen walked in, seemingly without Ciara to my surprise. They were practically joined at the hip at this stage. The others kept working, so I inquired as to where the huntress had got to.

"At the fletcher again, inquiring about better arrows," Armen said with a wave of his hand, "After meeting those spiders, she wants some that can pierce thick hide better." I shrugged at that. It was a sensible precaution, one beyond her years in my opinion. Of all the people in our little group, I think she was the only one who shared my immediate fear for the future. Or perhaps she could sense my unease when I was out of eyeshot of Tam or Julie. I tended to forget all about any number of problems when I was with them.

"Actually, now that you're here, I have a question," I said, remembering my talk with Élodie and Claire on the way back.

"Well, I am a scholar," joked Armen, "I like questions. As long as I can answer them." A clear warning to keep off the topic of the Rebellion, that last part. Not that the Rebellion was the subject of my interest that evening.

"What is a Blight?"

Immediately, the sounds of work and movement from Julie and Tam halted. Armen's smile disappeared, as if choked. The chainmail was placed back on the floor. My friends looked between each other in confusion, with wide eyes and thinned lips. I had no idea what was wrong with the question, but from what they said afterwards, it's clear that they were at a loss as to how to explain. Not least because I was from a world where magic was non-existent, at least in the way they recognised, and the evil gods more than likely didn't exist either.

"I'll be right back," said Julie, brushing off her work clothes as she got up, "Take a seat."

She rushed out. I followed her exit as she strode out quickly, before grabbing one of the many wooden stools strewn about the place.

"Where's she going?" I asked.

"I can guess," said Armen, "We're going to need some help with this one."

I looked to Tam, and she shook her head, not knowing where Julie had went. The person in question returned several minutes later, with Ciara, a bottle of vodka and several cups in tow. My eyebrow raised at that. It was going to be one of _those_ conversations. She poured everyone a drink, handing them out without a word, before sitting down on top of an anvil and nodding to Armen to begin. He drank a little before speaking.

"Ahh, where to start..." he said, eyes looking to the heavens.

"The magisters," said Julie firmly, "Start with them."

So Armen did, explaining everything from back to front. How the Tevinter magisters entered the Fade, the city within it, unleashing the darkspawn onto the world under the control of dark gods. How the foul creatures live underground, attacking the last dwarven kingdoms while digging to find more of their gods, and every couple of hundred years, rising to attack the kingdoms of the surface and destroy the world. He spoke about the Archdemons, how they led the hordes and that they were immortal save against a very special kind of warrior. The effects on people and the land seemed particularly horrendous, with the taint affecting crops, farm animals, corrupting people and even children born during blights were smaller. Finally, the mage spoke about the Grey Wardens and how they saved the world five times, the last time less than ten years before.

I was dumbfounded by the whole thing. If it wasn't for the seriousness of the atmosphere, made worse by the alcohol, I wouldn't have believed a word of it. Undead from underground, that eat men and turn women into living incubators for broods of more undead? Dragons leading armies to the doom of all? It sounded like apocalyptic prophesy to me, the sort of thing a deranged cultist would come up with. However, Julie's face told me all I needed to know about the truth of it, which added to her previous stories of tree demons, painted the picture that she had experienced some of its horrors first hand. The truth was that all of eastern Orlais still hadn't recovered from the effects of the crisis.

Which is why I began asking questions about the Fifth Blight.

"They stopped it though, right?" I asked, "I'm not likely to run into any darkspawn or archdemons while we're here."

"Darkspawn, perhaps. They sometimes raid the Dales," said Armen, dredging up the knowledge from the back of his mind, "But without the leadership of the Archdemon, they are much more easily defeated, and we probably won't see another of those for centuries." I would say that this was a naïve idea, but the evidence was firmly on our mage's side on this. We could not know about Corypheus and his plans.

"Your weapons should be effective against them," said Tam, "And with your... ability, you might even be able to kill an Archdemon." I breathed out heavily at that. Even if I could have, I had no intention of testing that theory, because that would have meant getting to within a swordswing of the damn thing. Considering they were dragons, and I had seen a dragon, up close and personal, I had no intention of going there.

"Without dying, you mean," I said, remembering the stories, "These Grey Wardens... they must be great men and women, to take on that burden." Drinking darkspawn essence seemed like an insane risk to me, at least if you aren't immune to that nonsense. Guaranteed suicide missions as a life long career seemed more par for the course though.

"They're heroes," said Ciara, "Even to the Dalish. The clans usually shun humans and other races, but a Grey Warden of any race can usually talk to them without being turned into a pincushion. Usually." The Dalish were troublesome in their prejudices like that, but we'll get to that part.

"Mages who don't like the Circles often join up too," Armen added, "Grand-Enchanter Fiona, our leader and the one who pushes us towards freedom, she was once a Grey Warden." That made sense to me. Of course the one leading the Rebellion had tasted freedom, and was intoxicated by it. You have to train people into accepting chains, typically.

"I didn't think you could stop being one?" said Julie.

"It's complicated, and I don't know the whole story," Armen replied quickly, "but it makes me wonder if she could kill an Archdemon without dying as well."

"Well, the last Grey Warden to slay one didn't die when the last Blight was stopped," said Julie, " _The Hero of Ferelden_ , as that country likes to call him. Maybe there are more exceptions to the rule than you know." Well, at least there's hope there, I thought. Knowing my luck, I reckoned three archdemons at least were bound to show up during our short stay. Dragons and demons had already put in an appearance.

"No one seems to know how he did it," said Armen, "Worse, he was Warden-Commander in Ferelden for a year or so, and then disappeared hunting some mage, or so the word is. I would love to know how he did it."

"You don't know?" said Tam, incredulously, "I thought everyone in the South knew?"

Heads turned to her like lightning, mine included. This was going to be good. Or very bad. Either way.

" _You_ know how the Hero of Ferelden slew the Archdemon without perishing?" asked Armen, "How by Andraste's dimpled cheeks would you know something like that?"

"The Arishok... the leader of the armies of the Qun," replied Tam, "He was a Sten, a war leader, sent to investigate darkspawn during the Blight, and fought alongside Amell and his company, including King Alistair. He's quite fond of telling the story. " Both as a cautionary tale and as a political manoeuvre to demonstrate his experience of the South, no doubt. I've found the Qunari more politically divided than their facade would have us believe. Of course, the notion that Tam spoke to the supreme commander of Qun forces warranted some comment.

"Wait. You're on a story-hearing basis with the leader of all Qunari soldiers," I said, "Just how highly ranked were you?"

"I was a candidate to eventually replace the Ariqun on Seheron, remember? Or maybe to be Viddasala, I'm not sure," said Tam, "All three of our supreme leaders or their underlings would speak to us regularly, weeding out the weaklings and testing us. The Arishok was quite fond of me, as I was among the most insistent on the importance of military training among our young."

Given her skills, I was surprised she wasn't a soldier herself. Of course, only males could be soldiers under the Qun, though women served by changing their identity to that of a male. I guess she liked caring for children too much to abandon the duty for combat roles. She proved cut out for the latter at any rate.

"Yes yes, get to the part where you know how to survive killing an Archdemon," said Armen impatiently, "This is ground-breaking magic, if it's true." Which is probably why he should be let near it, but alas, I am always there to fish him out of the fire.

"Very well, _saarebas_ , though I doubt you'll find the tale useful," said Tam, annoyed by his tone, "Amell travelled with a number of companions other than the Arishok. As well as King Alistair, there was a red-headed Orlesian bard, a dwarf beserker, an assassin from the Antivan Crows, another human mage who is quite high up in the Circles now..."

"Senior-Enchanter Wynne," interjected Armen with a small hint of disgust, "She opposes the Rebellion, the old soft..."

"A golem..." continued Tam, raising her voice slightly, "And apparently a dog, of which the Arishok can't seem to shut up about. They were all pawns for the last member of the group. A so-called Witch of the Wilds named Morrigan." That name was familiar to me.

"Morrigan," I said flatly, "The goddess?"

"You know of her?" asked Tam in surprise, "She's a goddess?"

"In some of our mythology, she was a goddess who offered great power temptations to heroes in return for her love or for some other task," I said, remembering some of it, "She is the goddess of both life and death, associated with cows and ravens." I loved the old myths of various Earth cultures, and I have to say it was among the favourites of mine. Mostly because it was so wacky. People turning into swans and wars fought over cattle. That sort of thing.

"Sounds like she needs to make up her mind," said Julie, "Crows and cows? Life and death? I do not understand." The story has nuances beyond that sort of thing, but like I said, I liked it for its strangeness. Morrigan was fond of lending her favour to warriors, and as I was planning to be a warrior, the idea of a goddess offering herself to me along with the strength to win was appealing. The Hero of Ferelden was evidently of the same opinion.

"Morrigan is not entirely unlike your myths, but she is not divine," Tam continued, "Amell fell in love with her, and she with him. Not surprising, they were both _saarebas_. Amell did not like life in the Circle and Morrigan was disdainful about it at best."

"It seems I have more in common with the Hero than I thought," joked Armen.

"As well as Morrigan," added Ciara, "Careful you don't run off to the Wilds!"

Tam pressed on. "They fought together, slept together and made much of the decisions that saved Ferelden together. The Arishok found her to be not a formidable threat, at least for a mage, until the eve of the final battle. Morrigan and Amell coupled, and the witch got pregnant."

"I'm not sure how that has anything to do with surviving an Archdemon," interrupted Julie. I have to admit that I couldn't see the connection either. Armen on the other hand looked thoughtful, like he might have had an idea about where the story was going.

"At least the technique seems pleasant," he remarked, once he noticed that I was watching him. His smile was back.

"She performed a ritual, during or after their joining," said Tam, "So that when the Archdemon was slain, the soul of the Old God it possessed would take hold of the unborn child. According to the Arishok, it could survive the taint that would have killed an adult, so Amell lived."

"So a sprinkle of blood magic, Amell gets to live and Morrigan gets a child with the soul of an Old God..." said Armen, "I can see why she did it." Power being the implied reason. It's always power with blood magic.. Though I am perhaps being harsh on their motivations.

"She disappeared almost immediately after the battle at Denerim, and Amell disappeared a year later," Tam finished, "Not sure why, the Arishok left Ferelden days after Morrigan left. After he had demanded an explanation from Amell, as was his duty to demand. Perhaps the Warden-Commander wished to find his lover and their son or daughter?"

I shook my head in disgust.

"Using a child like that..." I said, "I couldn't do it. Who knows what in the hell will happen to them, a demon's soul floating about inside them?"

"The soul of an _Old God_ ," corrected Armen, "The Old Gods are not necessarily evil, they become Archdemons because the darkspawn dig them up and corrupt them. It is a matter of some debate in Val Royeaux." I wasn't sure that made things any better for the child, but alas...

"I'm sure it is," said Julie, "Meanwhile, the rest of us get to worry about being dragged off by the evil _fils des putes_ in the middle of the night, while the professors sit behind Val Royeaux's walls." Tam nodded her agreement with that, her view on Armen's academic curiosity being as dim as it was back then. I realised that something along those lines must have happened before. The palisade wall certainly wouldn't have stopped a determined enemy, especially one as dangerous as darkspawn.

"Don't worry. We'll smite anything that tries to come for us," I said firmly, "A few months, and we're out of this place forever. The more you tell me about this world, the more I look forward to showing you my world." The whole group smiled at that hope, so openly expressed. So naïve.

It was only hours later that we discovered it to be a false hope.

 


	31. Spirits in the Sky III

We had a hearty dinner to compensate for the serious topics we had been discussing. Some of the halla and nug we had cooked for lunch, with potato mash, gravy skimmed off from earlier, butter, bread, ale, even some black pepper, which was a luxury back then. The food doesn't seem strange to me now, but coming from Earth, I found it both filling and rough at the same time. Better than the rations, worse than the fare back home. Regardless, we ate very well and talked about more lighthearted matters, like what we were going to do with the château and who would win in a shooting competition between Tam, Ciara and I.

It must have been midnight when we finally packed it in for the night, and I retired with Julie and Tam to the former's bedchamber. I entertained the idea of fooling around for a little while, but after a... playful exchange, the three of us decided wordlessly that it had been too eventful a day. We were tired. Tomorrow was a new day, we could indulge ourselves then. So, we drifted off into a deep sleep almost as soon as we had gotten comfortable in the bed together.

When I regained consciousness, I awoke to a hellscape.

I was laid down on my back, my usual sleeping position, on damp rock, which was definitely not my usual bedding nor the bedding I had went to sleep on. I opened my eyes, and found a wide sky above me. A dark green sky, filled with floating mountains and twisted archways that made me question which way was up for a moment until reason reasserted itself.

Not that reason apparently means much in the Fade, but it does to me, so I didn't fall into the sky.

In the distance was a floating, black settlement of some kind. Brooding towers and walls covered in shadow, menacing the whole place like a beast growling and ready to strike. This was the Black City, though by my standards, it was more of a Black Town. Which didn't diminish its threat. I groaned at the sight, and pinched myself to see if I was dreaming, a more or less common response to such things. I didn't wake up.

"Riiight," I said to myself, "So this isn't a dream."

I stood up and looked around. I was in the middle of a small island, surrounded by a dark pool of black water. Beyond that was rocky terrain, with steps cut into it at sharp angles and unholy lights hovering around, both of which seemed to go on forever. I rubbed my head and pinched the bridge of my nose. A quick check, and I found myself without my weapons or armour. I was still in the clothing I had worn to bed. Which wasn't much. There was only one immediate conclusion that I could come up with; I had been transported to another world. Why Tam and Julie hadn't been taken, I did not know.

"Ah shit, not again," I said aloud, "Whoever is doing this, can you cut this out?"

"Who is doing what?" came the Orlais-tinted reply, sending goosebumps up my skin instantly. I turned to seek the owner of the voice, a female one that had some years on it. I found no one behind my back, only to turn around and find myself confronted with a red mask barely inches from my face. I fell backwards, stumbling to remain on my feet.

"What the hell!" I shouted, reaching for my weapons before remembering they weren't there, "Who are you!"

"Françoise des Arbes, Baronetess of Ancienmaison," she said in Orlesian, doing a curtsy, "And you?"

I looked over the woman, still in a mild state of shock. She wore a long, grey dress with red lining with a huge, ballroom skirt. Long, immaculately tressed brown hair curled out from under her full-face mask. She looked younger than her voice suggested, and by a long way. She waited patiently for my answer, which calmed me down a great deal. I straightened up, and took a step forwards to offer my hand.

"Samuel Hunt," I began, "...the Marquis de la Fayette." I wasn't sure whether or not to lie about my title, but it was becoming a habit to add it on now.

For her part, the 'Baronetess' found it amusing.

"And lord of my former manor, are you not?" she said, "You seemed very interested in it today. The Revered Mother's chanting aside."

I gulped down a lump in my throat as I realised I was talking to a dead woman, Pierre's assassinated cousin no less. Suppressing my panic, which threatened greatly to overwhelm my senses, I placed myself in my military mindset, the sort I used to talk to officers who outranked me and were well aware of the difference. It was the best I could do.

"It was a fine building, ma'am," I replied politely, in Orlesian, "It will serve very well, while I am living temporarily in Hearth."

The ghost seemed confused by that, tilting its head and laughing a little.

"Where shall you go afterwards?" she asked, "And here I thought you would make a good replacement, after so many attempts to usurp my place by those who had me killed."

Another shudder went down my spine at the implications of those words. Aside from the fact that a dead woman wanted me for an heir, I began to seriously doubt that the giant spiders were responsible for most of the deaths in the château. There was also the thought that perhaps Pierre had his cousin killed, or perhaps his wife had, to claim both the land and the chance to frame an enemy. I couldn't put it past him, even if Julie trusted the man.

"I will go home," I said firmly, putting aside my thoughts.

"How?" she asked, "How will you go home?" I found the question strange.

"The same way I came," I replied, "I hope."

The dead noblewoman found that entirely hilarious, doubling over and rumbling a great giggle out of her. I clenched my fists, and my lip curled with anger. I was not in the mood to be mocked, even by the dead.

"You have no idea, do you?" she said, "You are quite famous, around here."

"Famous?" I asked, not liking the sound of that at all.

"Oh yes, many have been expecting your arrival," she said, "They and I watched it, as you fell from grace." Fell from grace sounded downright biblical...

"So... this is the Fade," I said, looking around again. There were more spirits gathering now, looking a lot more like the ghosts of stories from Earth. I wasn't sure I was in danger, with my supposed immunity to this sort of thing, but of course, if I was already there, I couldn't rely on that.

"Indeed, and it is not the first time you have been here," Francoise said, "Though it is the first time you have been here in this way."

"In this way?" I asked.

"I have summoned you here, to talk," she replied, "As I could not speak to you during the day, it was daytime and you were awake." Okay, so there was hope of getting back, I thought. If she could summon me, she could place me back in my bed just as easily. If she was so inclined. So I decided to indulge her wish to speak to me.

"You said I fell from grace," I said, "What do you mean? How did I fall?"

"In that giant metal machine of yours, of course," the dead women giggled, "It was very unusual, not like the others at all. It drew all sorts of attention." She was talking about the helicopter, and I suddenly remembered the clawmarks along the outside of its metal skin. Interesting attention indeed. The mention of others just confused me entirely. Other whats? Earthlings?

"Others?" I asked.

"Many enter the Fade who do not wish to, one way or another," the dead woman said, deadpanning, "More than that, I will not say." Yeah, real helpful there lady. I really wished I had a firelance to empty into her, which was a bit stupid. Contrary to the presumed expectations of you, my dear readers, no weapon materialised at will for me either. A lesson for another day.

"I don't suppose you could show me the way I came?" I asked, looking for better answers.

"Certainly," she said.

Suddenly, the scenery around us changed. The general features were exactly the same, but there were now two of the Baronetess. The original remained in her place, the second was stood among a huge crowd of translucent beings, all looking upwards.

I tracked their gazes to the sky, and saw a giant thunderstorm high up, nearby the dark, floating city. Wreathed in a very familiar green lightning. Out of the cloud, tumbled our helicopter, blades whirring and engines roaring. It was a memory, I realised, one of Francoise's own that she was sharing with me. As the helicopter got closer, I picked out other shapes attached to it.

Lithe, spiked creatures, green caricatures of tall men with long, blade like fingers. They were tearing at the aircraft viciously. Most were concentrated at the front, getting into the glass of the cockpit with some ease. I shouted out, as I realised I was watching how the crew had died. Torn apart by monsters. It had no effect. The helicopter continued falling, or half-flying, until it was eaten up by another bright flash of green, leaving the monsters behind in the air. The storm dispersed in seconds afterwards, as if it had never existed, and the crowd went with it.

The memory disappeared, leaving only us and the small gaggle of spirits left. I looked up at the sky again and felt sick.

"Does that satisfy you, Marquis?" the Baronetess asked.

"Yes," I said, trying to keep my stomach together, "Thank you."

"You are most welcome," she said, with another curtsy, "Do you see now that you cannot return home?" Which was the reason that nausea had hit me, aside from the experience of being sucked into another's memories. The place in the sky where we fell from was undisturbed, and at no small altitude. I would need to go back, get Julie and Tam, re-enter the Fade with all its dangers and demons, find a way to get that high up and then re-open whatever hellgate I had passed through with Fraser's men and the helicopter crew.

It didn't seem possible.

"I'm afraid our time is up," said Francoise suddenly, "I am glad I had this opportunity. We may never speak again, but know that you shall be safe in my home."

I opened my mouth to speak, but the Fade disappeared from my sight, replaced with the darkness of Julie's bedroom.

I was sitting up in the bed, but my vision of it was clouded, as if I was underwater or there was a heat haze. As soon as I noticed it however, the visual effect dispersed with a wooden bang, and Armen appeared in front of me by the doorway. The noise had been his staff, and it was obvious that he had been casting a spell of some kind.

I jumped out of bed and checked myself. Everything was still there, and a pinch confirmed that I was still awake. Julie and Tam were out of the bed to either side, backs to the wall and hands grasping at the masonry, but slowing relaxing from their stance.

"What happened?" I asked, trying to figure things out.

Armen sighed with relief and shuffled into the room, a very sleepy Ciara with him. It was still the middle of the night, which I wouldn't quite understand for a few minutes yet.

"There was a spirit, so I rushed up here and dispelled it," he said, "I woke to … relieve myself and sensed something magical was here."

"I know that," I replied, "I was talking to it in the Fade."

"You what!" said Julie, coming over, "How?!"

"No idea," I said, "It called itself Francoise des Arbes, it claimed to be the murdered owner of our new … castle. It also showed me things." Recognition fell over Julie's face, but she didn't have time to reply.

Tam rushed up to me, and hurried me to the bed. I lay down as instructed, and she began a physical inspection, looking for marks or any other sign of possession. Even I knew what she was at, so I let her do it. It was gentler than the one she had given me at the crash-site. When she was done, she hung her head for a moment.

"Thank you..." she said to no one in particular, "I was worried." She lied down beside me and put her hands on her face for a moment, before sitting up again.

"If he's resistant to magic, I doubt he can be possessed even if his mind can go to the Fade," said Armen with a yawn, to reassure the Qunari, "But this is still a weakness that can be exploited." Julie and Tam still looked concerned. Even Ciara's eyes widened enough to show she was listening. I really, really did not want to add to the weight on their mind, but every fibre of my being was screaming out to tell them.

So I did.

"We have a bigger problem than whether or not a spirit can get inside my head," I said.

"What's that?" asked Julie, eyes wide. I hesitated for a moment, but she sat down on the bed to hear. I couldn't deny her.

"I saw exactly how I came to Thedas, where I came through the Fade," I explained, "There's no way we can get to Earth that way. No way anyone else can get through and back again, flying machines or otherwise. We're stuck here."

 


	32. Prelude to War

After I revealed that Earth was now a near-impossible destination, if not entirely a suicidal objective, we quietly relocated to the kitchen. Sleep had no hold on us any more. The atmosphere was strange, a mix of disappointment, confusion and fear for the future, as I told the whole story of what I had seen in the Fade. No one asked any questions except Armen, mainly about what I could see and the like. Apparently, that a spirit could interact with my mind but not my body was utterly baffling to him. I was glad for the small piece of more or less practical conversation on the subject, as it distracted me from my despair long enough to think about what had to happen next. There was a pause as everyone got lost in their own thoughts, which I interrupted.

"Survival is what we have to concentrate on now," I said, "We're in real trouble."

Heads raised themselves at that, some understanding what I meant, others not quite getting it.

"What do you mean?" asked Tam, "The Qunari will take time to find us, the Templars don't know where you are, and our records were destroyed with the prison."

"I think you could kill anyone who threatens us anyway?" added Ciara, innocently, "A traveller from another world with knowledge beyond anything this world has seen? I'd be scared. Fen'harel himself would tremble if he met you.." Not sure if the Dread Wolf was ever capable of that to begin with. That said, he wasn't best pleased at my presence either once he discovered it.

"It's not gods or demons we have to worry about," Julie said, "It's everyone else." Everyone else without the brains to understand what they were dealing with, of which there are and were plenty. I owe so much to my civilisation's forefathers, their work and intelligence. Without them, I would indeed be dead. Yet my alien origin also presented disadvantages.

"I'm supposed to be a noble, remember?" I said, leaning back in my chair, "We could have kept up that deception for a few months, but now we're talking about a lifetime. Questions already might be being asked about me. In six months, in a year, in three years, someone will eventually suspect me enough to investigate." Investigate, arrest, hang. Or rather, attempt to arrest me while I kill everyone and flee to some dark corner of the world where no one will look. Not my idea of a way to live your life, then or now.

"Surely we can do everything we can to make your cover as strong as possible," said Armen, "What other choice do we have?" A reluctance grabbed me by the gut, as I realised the great threat to our enterprise.

"There's a problem with that idea," I said, "The Baron has a wife who lives in Halamshiral, right?"

"That's right..." Julie said, head tilted.

"Her name is Cecile," I said, "I met her during our imprisonment... she was the royal prosecutor, the one attempting to have me killed for murder and apostasy." Only Julie and Armen reacted, their eyes opening wide, before falling, realising the problem at last.

"So what?" asked Ciara

"She's probably the only person alive who knows that I was imprisoned," I replied, "She thinks I'm a noble, at least, but that won't matter when she contradicts the entire story of how Julie and I got out of the prison."

Tam snorted with derision and crossed her arms. "So we kill her," she said, "It's you or her. You're worth more." I was touched by her regard for me, and a little taken aback by her willingness to kill for it. There was an inconvenient fact standing in the way of me agreeing to that course of action however, beyond what would happen if the Baron found out.

"She has children," I said firmly, "I'm not going to kill her to cover my own ass unless it's the last resort."

"If she shows up with a small army, will that be the last resort?" asked Tam, a tinge of anger entering her voice, "Will you let her threaten us all? I won't forgive that." Would I let the Baroness threaten Tam or Julie, was the unspoken question I suspect. She had a point. Eliminating the Baroness, perhaps on the road or at night in her home, would have been the most prudent course of action. But I couldn't think of doing it.

"Any army she brings won't be large enough to capture us," I replied, "I won't orphan her children otherwise. That's final." Tam turned her head away, and I worried that I had insulted her a little. Truth be told, she was simply conceding the point badly.

"What can we do?" asked Julie, "As we do not seem to be playing the Game?" Fuck the Game, I thought.

"I have an idea," said Armen, holding his hand up, "If you'll hear it." I perked up a little at that. The mage was wise beyond his years, albeit loyal to his cause. Which others were well aware of.

"If it involves the Mage Rebellion, I don't want to hear it," said Tam before anyone else could speak, "I am just saying that before you start, so you understand." _I_ began to understand as I listened, that Tam was in the worst mood of all of us, about not being able to leave Thedas and go to Earth. Her hatred for the Qun is very much that of a born-again heretic, and her fears that they would hunt her down would haunt her for years to come.

"Luckily, it does not," Armen replied with a great deal of patience and grace, "Not directly anyway."

"Go on," said Tam, scepticism evident in her tone.

The mage spread his hands, in the way someone with an idea will often do before explaining.

"We flee to Ferelden," Armen said, gesticulating, "King Alistair and Queen Anora have proven themselves to be sympathetic to the plight of mages. They granted the Ferelden Circle a good measure of independence after the Blight. The kingdom is in dire need of aid, aid that you can give them with your knowledge if you wish. They are hostile to the Orlesians, and would be in our debt, we should be safe there."

I groaned. The idea of travelling again so soon... Giving up my knowledge for refuge didn't seem like a fair trade to me either. Even the civilian improvements I had in my head would have given the country a huge advantage over the others, one that could be turned into military success with no real trouble at all. That is to say nothing about the military ideas and technology in my noggin, or the vast knowledge of my library, either. For that sort of leverage, they would have had to make me king. Still, I wasn't hearing any other good ideas, so I was prepared to go along with it.

Until Julie stood and spoke.

"No, I will not leave Orlais," she said, mustering some cold steel from her heart, "I will not run, I will not leave behind my family, I will not let _them_ drive me away." As her father had been driven away, as her mother had...

For me, that was enough to settle the question. Tam looked like she appreciated the response as well. I wondered if that was because Ferelden couldn't hold off the Qunari, but I was also sure it was moments like that when Julie was most attractive. Eyes flashing, fists clenched, back straight, glorious words on her lips. We were far from the only people to be enthralled by the sight over the years. Aside from the fact that we would be dead without such charisma, it was intoxicating to be in her presence when she was like that.

Even Armen accepted her answer with his usual quiet smile.

"Umm, so what do we do?" asked Ciara.

"We prepare," said Julie, "If they're coming for us, we get ready. We should have time for that."

"More easily said than achieved," said Tam, before smiling, "But I will enjoy the challenge."

"Better for the mages of Orlais too, I have to admit," said Armen, "You will need them, if you want to stand and fight." Both Tam and Julie looked a little troubled at that, but a quick glance at me, and their expressions softened. Evidently, my Fade-immunity was a significant advantage for us over any magical force to the extent that it eased their concerns.

* * *

Thus, we decided to stay and fight all our would-be enemies, and make Hearth our home.

We discussed necessary steps at length, enough length that fully recalling the conversations here would be tedious, but I shall summarise them. I think it's fair to say we had three things on our mind. Money, mages and military might, in that order.

We discussed money, as it would definitely be the biggest hurdle to our aims. Nobles are not poor, not in Orlais anyway. They steal money from the backs of the peasantry and merchant classes, and they spend it frivolously. Or so Julie said. Apparently, the Baron didn't do the last part, even if his purse was filled by the former. I took her word on it. We had a decent amount of money even by noble standards as it was, and could borrow more, at least in the short term. There was one huge advantage that we had in the long term; my knowledge from Earth.

America, my homeland, is what we call a 'consumer economy' and it shows. There are many wonderful things to buy, and if you sell them, you are made for life. If you're really good, you're made for several lifetimes over. Of course, with no competitors on the backwards-ass markets of Thedas, I could make us significant amounts of money in very little time. We wrote down some simple stuff that we could manufacture easily that would sell like hot-cakes, all the way up to things that would require years to develop but could probably fund entire countries if done right.

Capitalism, the first step to democracy from feudalism. Marx would be spinning in his grave that we wouldn't be taking the next step beyond it, I'm sure. Good thing _Das Kapital_ didn't make it across, or maybe our banners would have had hammers and sickles. Julie and Tam almost put them on as it was. Julie seemed particularly glad that we weren't going to rely on our 'vassals', something I still didn't understand and she didn't explain until later.

The mage situation was what we discussed next. It was far more complex than Armen had indicated before. Circles were in a state of unrest across the entire continent. A system of warning signs had been established by the Grand Enchanter, Fiona, after the Chantry forbade any more meetings of the College of Enchanters. Under increasing oppression, the Rebellion seemed certain to break into a war phase, particularly as the more fervent rebels secretly departed their Circles and made their way to Andoral's Reach, a fortress in the north west of Orlais. A vote to separate the Circles from the Chantry had failed. That they were calling it a Rebellion at all despite the lack of real fighting was proof enough that fighting would start sooner or later. I feared we had moved that situation along further by accidentally triggering the warning for Halamshiral.

Armen explained that the mages there had been primarily isolationists or ' _Lucrosians_ ', people wanting nothing to do with the conflict, because they either wanted to be left alone or their real interest was in building up wealth. They were not likely to engage in questionable magical practices either, a point he stressed pretty hard to soothe Tam's prejudices on the subject. By now, they probably had scattered to the four winds to hide from the Templars, to places known only to mages or to the forests that dominated the Dales. There were a couple of hundred of them at least, according to our resident mage.

After giving Julie, Tam and I a hopeful look for about a minute, it was agreed that our previous idea about contacting them should be extended to one of giving shelter to those mages. The war hadn't broken out yet, and with my ability, we could convince anyone that they were safe under my supervision. That was an extremely naïve view on my part, one that would cause us a great deal of trouble, but it wasn't entirely off the mark either. I _could_ kill any mage that fell to demonic influence, and I was immune to blood magic. That wouldn't necessarily stop people believing it was unsafe, or against the teachings of the Chantry. However, since the priestesses would be against us anyway, suspecting that I myself was something magical and for our association with Armen, I didn't really care at the time.

The conversation turned naturally from there to military might. It started with a remark by Tam that mages would give our survival a real boost, for when the Crown, the Templars or the Ben-Hassrath came a'knocking. Armen expressed a little more doubt on that front, explaining that almost none of the mages that would come had never seen combat. Which I could have guessed, as being locked up in a tower for most of your life doesn't see you put onto battlefields too often. Nobles had their pet battlemages and the rest were left to rot, as far as I could tell.

Ciara asked about my Earth weapons, and I explained the situation there. I had a dozen or so of each type of weapon with me; firelances, shotguns, handcannons. That wasn't great, but it was certainly better than nothing. Ammunition was a little more troublesome. I had tens of thousands of shots for the firelances, but only about two hundred for the handcannons and about sixty for the shotguns. Beyond that, I had a significant amount of explosive compounds but only a handful of detonators, composite armour for a dozen more people on top of the armour I had already distributed, another half dozen radio transmitters and headsets, and a good number of sensory devices for seeing in the dark, seeing things by heat, distance-finding, etc. Bottom line was that we couldn't rely on those too much. Resupply wasn't coming. I would need to train to use a bow, was Tam's recommendation. I agreed, having no desire to draw still more attention to my weapons and equally no desire to hear my gun go _click_ with no more bullets to feed it. That idea would never really bear fruit.

Once I was done explaining that, Ciara and Armen expressed a wish to go back to bed, so they went off.

Which left the three of us with nothing to do at about four in the morning. With our stresses built up, we decided to work them out until daybreak. Tam in particular needed that, as Earth had been robbed from her. It was a sad thing to see, a person's hopes taken away from them. Julie and I made her the centre of attention for a couple of hours. She cheered up, just a little, despite knowing that we weren't going anywhere. Perhaps because of it.

* * *

Needless to say, the next two or three weeks were extremely busy.

By the end, I had thoroughly explored Hearth in the cause of restoring the former home of Francoise des Arbes, remembering her promise that I would be safe there. When a dead woman makes you a promise like that, you tend to believe them. I even thought that it was perhaps a little prophetic. The Fade is funny with time.

The town had the hallmarks of actual planning in its layout, an indicator of its foundation as a human colony town after the Exalted March against the Dales. It was divided into four districts, all surrounded by the curtain wall. The space was almost perfectly divided in four by the two main avenues, but there, the semblance of design ended. In the middle was the town square I had seen on my first night, which was much more lively in the daytime.

The southwestern district belonged to the merchants, and was most familiar to me as it was where Élodie and Claire lived with their families. It was surprisingly well-to-do around there, and not entirely dominated by humans either. If I had to guess, I would have said the split was about fifty-fifty in terms of the 'races', though I use that term with a pinch of salt. The houses there were larger, the streets were a little more clean and the people wore half-masks without fail. The district connected to the palisade section of the town via the southern gate, where many of the merchants were forced to work so to prevent fires. The 'softer' industries remained within the walls however. I spent a lot of hours there with Julie, deciding on necessities for the manor in my guise as Marquis, throwing just enough money around to seem like a noble. At least I got some comfortable clothes for my trouble as well, as walking around in Earth garb all the time drew far more eyes. I refused the idea of donning a mask myself, though Julie picked two up for later. Deep blue ones with red and white highlights.

The south-eastern district was what would be called the alienage in western Orlais or Ferelden, but the term didn't really apply to a town in the Dales. On Earth, we would call it the working class neighbourhood if we were being polite, the projects or a slum if we were being a little more honest. This was almost entirely housing, with the occasional tavern, and it was dominated heavily by elves. The clue was in the hoods. I only went there once, with Tam and Ciara, to find some guy who was apparently the best carpenter in the business before he had retired. We couldn't find him, even with Ciara's help in negotiating the ethnic divide. Which was a little off-putting to say the least, along with the immense filth of the place. Which wasn't the fault of the residents, there were just too many people living there.

The north-eastern district was the docklands, where most of the trading went on. This was where most of the human freemen and workers lived, alongside shops, taverns and brothels a plenty. Leha lived there, and I found myself visiting her place three times to get help on buying more basic materials for fixing the château. Despite her attitude, she was very _very_ good at her job. I had feared we would need to sell the dragon's teeth to fund the renovations, but thanks to her, it wasn't necessary. I often travelled in this district with Armen, after seeing a man get stabbed for his coin purse on my first visit. I didn't exactly want to blow anyone away to make my point, so travelling with someone who was obviously a mage was my idea of deterrence. It worked horrendously well. Perhaps it wasn't the best move, as the Chantry chapel was also in that district, bordering the main square. I'm sure the Revered Mother had eyes on us.

Lastly, the north-western district was for the nobles and their servants. Mostly for the latter. Almost all of the nobility, consisting of some forty one chevaliers and their families, lived on their own estates outside the walls. I was technically the forty-second, though I maintained my own title of Marquis, which was significantly higher than anyone else's title. In fact, it is the highest non-royal title in Orlais, which caused a great deal of consternation. The nobles maintained grand houses inside Hearth however, to participate in the Baron's governance of the town and its lands. The Baron's own house was called 'The Keep', as it was at the most north-westerly point of the town and was well-fortified on the outside. The majority of the buildings there were for the servants though, being decent but not on the level of the merchants' own. They served as a protective buffer from the vices of the docklands and the slum, the houses of the rich surrounded by those they gave patronage to. I toured the place once on my own, making note of the layout, defences, guard posts and the like.

If I was on the brink of being discovered, that was where I would have to take the fight, after all.

All said, Hearth was a large town, the nucleus of a true city and populated as such.

* * *

Our new home was much changed.

I renamed the château from 'Ancienmaison' to "L'Ambassade" on the first day, another piece of politics to strengthen my hand on Julie's suggestion. I had Armen use his magic to carve a large piece of black marble for me, with the words "Embassy of the United Nations of Earth" in Latin and Dwarfish script, and in both Orlesian and the Common Tongue. He couldn't do the symbol though, as it was too complex to put on the stone in the size I wanted, so I just had him put a simplified version of the eagle from my tattoo on it instead. It looked bizarre to me, the mixture of symbols from two different entities, but it would look official to anyone else. We placed the stone just outside the gate. Even Orlesians recognise some measure of diplomatic immunity.

It was an annoying task, even with magical assistance, but we also gutted the rooms and the attic to replace everything in them. Tam objected to anything staying, fearing the return of spirits to the place, so that was one thing. The place was in bad need of renovations as well regardless. Apparently I had very good credit, courtesy of my new holdings, and Julie exploited it to the maximum. We also had the small chest of gold and silver that she had salted away from the taxmen, which she had buried not too far from the château itself. The place really looked like a palace by the end of it. There was nothing stupidly expensive, like gold fixings or something along those lines, but everything practical was of the highest quality. It was far from minimalist too.. When I fell into one of the beds for the first time, I thought I'd never get up again. Never had a bed that comfortable before, not even on Earth.

Aside from the work, I got to know my companions a lot better.

I learned that Julie liked spice-tea from Antiva, black with honey when she could get it. Expensive but essential, apparently. She drank it while reading Machiavelli, Rousseau and Hobbes... Heavy hitting stuff. She devoured the texts, reading them cover-to-cover in two days each, collapsing into bed once the sun began to fall. Tea on the bedstand, steaming away, book in hand. The library we kept was moved from the old smithy to the new place as soon as the latter was liveable. After that, came the smithy's equipment and tools. The château had a forge building too, though it was smaller and we would have to build a bigger one, but she used it anyway. Julie paid attention to every detail, so that we could be comfortable and maintain the illusion of our nobility. I was quite grateful that she took the reins on that. I wouldn't have known where to begin. Between playing lord of the manor and actually being one, there's a knowledge gap to say the least. We grew closer, talking long into the nights about the ideas she had been reading about as Tam listened.

Tam became considerably more affectionate. I think she previously had a fear, whether at the front of her mind or the back of her subconscious, that we would abandon her. Our arrangement up until that time was a great deal more quid pro quo, simple physical pleasure exchanged. When we didn't leave her to her fate or drive her off after the possibility of going to Earth became nil, the fear disappeared and her armour dropped away. She spent her free time hunting or practising archery with Ciara in the courtyard, listening to Julie read aloud while laying beside her, trading insults with Leha seemingly for fun, or watching Armen. As for myself, the majority of my contact with her in those days was either work-related or bed-related, with or without Julie. The Qun suppresses many things, and passion seems to be among them. The genie was well and truly out of the bottle on that one. I found myself becoming affectionate to her too, catching myself smiling at her or waking up enveloped by her. She put 100% into everything and anything she did, which was more than you could say about Julie or I.

Ciara stayed her cheery, excitable self. I didn't see her very much at all, as she opted to explore our new land for most of the daylight hours, mapping it out for me. When I did see her, it was during the aforementioned archery practice with Tam or with a report on what was out there. In the evenings, she had Armen start work on the garden, clearing out the huge weeds and rejuvenating the soil there. A little flame here and there had that task completed in no time at all. She seemed entirely undisturbed by the potential dangers ahead of us, or perhaps even relished them. It would be a considerable period of time before I met a Dalish clan, so this struck me as bizarre but welcome nonetheless. I'm sure Armen appreciated her boundless enthusiasm as well.

The mage himself found that he was best suited to any number of jobs that needed to be completed. The stone carving, the garden, lifting heavy objects like they were nothing, he took on the work with good grace. The reason why was obvious. Two days into the work, he sent off what I thought was a raven with a message attached to its leg. We finally made contact with the nascent Mage Rebellion. The full circumstances of our escape from Halamshiral went with it, along with the details of my fake identity. He sent a raven to someone else as well, with similar details, but refused to say to whom and what exactly he had said. I knew he wouldn't endanger us, as that would mean putting a torch for his plans for me, so I let him away with it. For leisure, he spent time with Ciara and learned to read Latin letters. When I asked him why he would bother, Armen made mention of wanting to know about Earth's knowledge of the material world. I have to admit, I was impressed with that motivation.

The person I spent most time with when the sun was up was Leha, which was unpleasant but necessary. Aside from being a trader, she was an alchemist of sorts. Both skillsets helped me with my ideas for making coin. Aside from various tools, which we could copy from examples that I had brought with me, there was the alcohol. My father was fond of making moonshine, to the eternal embarrassment of my mother. Like father like son. Leha informed me of the sorts of drinks that nobles and ambitious merchants liked, and I came up with the products to match. By the third week, we had a whole range planned and a trademark. The former was mostly grain alcohols with various sweeteners, the sort of thing I wouldn't touch with a bargepole but that would please the yuppies of either world. The latter was a simple eagle, identical to that on the entrance stone, with " _L'Ambassade_ " underneath it in Dwarfish script. The first of many profitable ventures, I am proud to report.

As Julie is fond of saying, the sinews of war are infinite money. Cicero was another item on her reading list. War was indeed coming, and we could feel its approach. Settling into Hearth was the strangest experience of my life, but it was among the most pleasant as well. The most strange event happened just as I was getting used to things.

* * *

"What the hell do you mean he wants to see us?" I said over breakfast, "It's been weeks, and we haven't heard a peep out of him."

Leha sighed, having arrived minutes earlier from the town herself. She had burst into our new kitchen on the ground floor looking red and flustered, which reminded me a little of how she had shown up before the Baron's first arrival. I looked to the others around the table, and most seemed as irritated at the prospect as I did. It was Armen and Julie eating with me. Tam and Ciara were out hunting yet again.

"His seneschal told me to run down here and tell you," Leha panted, "The Baron will be coming, and he won't be alone."

That really got my attention.

"Please tell me that the Revered Mother isn't the company with him," I groaned, "She already gives Julie an earful every time she goes down to the chapel." Lectures about appropriate relationships, the threat of mages, and bitching about why I wasn't going to sing the Chant of Light with my betrothed. My patience with the woman was severely tested, to say the least. Tam avoided similar censure by actually showing up, which I found rather a hilarious diversion for my nerves.

"No, it's the corvée levy," said Leha, rolling her eyes, "I don't actually know what the hell that means, I don't speak Orlesian... but 'expect a crowd' was the feeling I got from the conversation."

"A crowd of what?" asked Armen, not even looking at the dwarf as he asked before stuffing a large piece of bread into his mouth. He was filling out pretty well in a good way. I had shown him some physical training techniques early-on, and he took to them.

"Serfs," Julie replied.

I narrowed my eyes.

"Serfs?" I asked, not quite sure if I had heard her correctly.

"We're lord and lady of Ancienmaison now, remember?" she said, "We have vassals that owe us corvée... labour, and tithes of crops."

A bolt of disgust rippled down my throat. I hadn't considered that possibility. Hell, I had no idea how much land I actually owned, never mind that I would actually have what were effectively indentured servants or slaves to work it. The idea I had was to make money by exploiting my knowledge, not force peasants to hand over their crops to me. Slavery of that sort has a dark history in my world. I was determined to have nothing to do with it.

"We're not going to have vassals," I said firmly, "I don't care if every country in the world marches on us, I'm not treating people like slaves."

Julie smiled at that. My stress melted away a little. I was worried for a moment that she had bought into the whole idea. It would have been completely contrary to her character, to roll with it. I smirked back. She had been waiting for this moment.

"You had no intention of going along with it, did you?" I asked flatly. She shook her head slowly.

"We'll let them work the land for free, or pay them for other work on contract," she replied, "We're going to need them to maintain our image, but that doesn't mean we need to play the way we're expected to." Which was true, and I felt a lot better about it as it donned on me that I would probably have military obligations as well. If Des Arbes thought I was going to be using my Earth weaponry for his benefit or that of the Crown, he was pissing up the wrong tree.

"I'm confused," said Armen, "Why not charge them a rent?" A fair question from someone who didn't know where my objection was coming from. He hadn't read the history books yet.

"Can't say I understand either," Leha added, "Take some money if they're going to be working anyway." Because it isn't ours to take, I thought.

Julie sighed, frustrated that the other two hadn't got the picture yet. "We will need the peasants' support if we're going to get through this," she explained after a moment to think, "When mages start showing up, or nobles start getting agitated by our presence, we can't have an angry mob ready to support templars or chevaliers coming to kill us. I'd prefer if the angry mob was on our side." Or something a lot more capable than an angry mob, as I began to think about the possibilities.

Armen hummed his approval and returned to his meal, while Leha just looked even more confused with her brow furrowed deeply.

"Why would chevaliers be out to kill you?" the dwarf asked, "I get templars, necessary risk if we're going to bring mages in. The profits justify it. But why would the nobility care?" Armen had a little chuckle to himself, knowing something she didn't.

Julie had opted to keep Leha in the dark about my true origins, until she was sure that it would be safe to reveal such a dangerous thing. Or more accurately, until we were making money hand-over-fist and Leha wouldn't be tempted to hand me over to whoever wanted me in return for a fat payday. Her obsession with money really did border that closely on the obscene, an irony we would be glad for in the coming years.

"We're going to be making a lot more money than they are, and they're going to resent that," I said, using the lesser truth to cover my real fear, "Julie is a commoner raised up by a foreign noble, we'll be outcasts even if we don't proceed with our plans." Plans we had to go ahead with if we were to both stay alive and stay in Hearth.

"There are forty one chevaliers under the Baron apart from you, and I don't think any of them will look at you twice," Leha said, "You're just someone he brought in to manage this part of his land, that's all." That was what I hoped was the case myself, but we had no idea of his real intentions.

"Only time will tell," said Julie, "With the loyalty of the people the Baron will … give to us, we can do much more than if we simply exploit them."

"They'll all be elves with no other opportunities, or second-sons and their families," replied Leha, "I doubt loyalty would be a problem."

"Loyalty enough to fight the nobles when it comes to that?" Julie asked, "No, we need to bind them to us, make them family almost. That's the only way."

"Fine, the Baron will be here in a couple of hours," Leha said, throwing her arms up, "I'll see you then."

The dwarf stormed off out of the building, into the garden. She nearly collided with Tam, who was rounding the corner, but a quick sidestep saw her dodge both the Qunari and Ciara behind. Loud mutterings boomed in her wake, which pissed me off a little.

I waved our companions over with a frown, as they set aside their bows. Tam gave a curious look, while Ciara dropped herself into a seat next to Armen.

"What did the dwarf want?" asked Tam, as she entered the room from the sunshine outside. My eyes wandered for a moment, before I remembered she had asked a question.

"The Baron is coming, with peasants to work the land," I said, "Leha's not happy that we want to pay them to work for us."

Tam merely shrugged her indifference. Her circle of concern was always tight-knit.

"So more people are coming?" Ciara asked cheerfully.

"Yes," replied Julie, "I don't know how many yet, but we'll see."

 


	33. Sherwood I

The next lesson I learned in Thedas is every power in the world will resist change with all the might they can bring to bear. Powers both temporal and supernatural. If I didn't know better, I would have said that Thedas exists as a petri dish for a capricious god to watch mortals suffer in as many interesting ways as they themselves can dream of. Regardless of what now may be known about the Fade, the idea of immortality of the sort offered by that realm still strikes me as more of a punishment than a reward. Julie says souls merely pass through it to join the Maker, even after all that has happened. I am not so sure. Of course, the material world here has just as many ways to cause suffering as my own did, and it was those I was primarily concerned with before the Breach opened and madness started.

A practical demonstration of this lesson was forthcoming a few months after we set up in Hearth, but to understand it, I should probably relay the conversation I had with the Baron, just before he introduced me to my would-be vassals.

Des Arbes came to the château and invited us to his home, as Leha had said, and had his servants distract Julie and Tam while he walked us into a lounge room. I had some trepidations about whether or not he wanted to harm me as we walked into the ornate room. I had even more about whether or not I'd find his damned lawyer of a wife sitting there, waiting with twelve Templars and a pair of bracelets. Thankfully, I found only tastefully luxurious furnishings, including two seats and a table looking out of a large window to the countryside over the walls. I was surprised to see such a gap in the defences of the Keep, though I later learned there was a portcullis that came down over the window during sieges.

The noble bade me to sit, and I did so. He followed suit, and poured himself a glass of wine without offering me a similar refreshment. Prick.

"You are in an interesting situation, Marquis," the Baron began in Orlesian, as he set down his mask where the glass had been.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Your strange behaviour," he continued, "It is troubling to see someone with noble blood like yours, acting as you are. Spending money so frivolously on things only the merchants think of as aristocratic? Buying up half the town's supplies with that dwarven lowlife.. You are already the talk of the chevaliers." I snorted my derision at his disapproval. After all, with what I knew, I'd be richer than the entire Empire of Orlais if I wanted to be. If this was his game, playing the hauteur, I could double down on that.

"We don't spend our money on unnecessary crap where I'm from," I lied, "Those of high rank are expected to be brave, grand, and above all, prudent." Utter horse manure. High grade. Sure, the expectations were there, but they were followed on a patchy basis at best. Generally not at all. I'm not sure if he realised that, but the Baron smirked a little nonetheless, like I was quaint. He was probably comparing me to the Fereldan nobility in his mind, but I couldn't know that at the time. Just thinking about it stresses my ass even today.

"The Revered Mother keeps petitioning me to call forth soldiers to deal with your apostate mage," he continued, swirling his glass before taking a gulp, "Personally I do not care, I would hire such a useful individual myself if I could, but she will only appeal to me for so long before going to her superiors directly." Now with the veiled threats.

"Mother Brandon has been informed at every opportunity that my mage is Andrastian and on detached service from the Circle," I replied, "It's her prerogative to disbelieve, but she saw what I'm capable of. No one should be worried about Armen, he's harmless." An eyebrow cocked briefly at that. I was tempted to add that Armen couldn't hurt me even if he turned into a giant Fade gorilla, but I thought better of it.

"You are buying strange materials and equipment for some unknown purpose, and Mother Brandon knows it," said the Baron, grey eyes piercing me, "Then there is the matter of your weapons..."

I felt his gaze keenly, and returned it as best I could through my calculations. I'm sure he could see the cogs turning in my head as I tried to work out what this conversation was about. He took another sip of his wine, and I decided I had enough of the Game. Time to cut out the bullshit.

"If you don't have any business with me, I'll go," I said, leaning back into the generously padded leather chair, "Otherwise, I'm listening."

"Something about you smells, Lord Hunt," he said with a shit-eating grin on his face, "I can't figure out what yet, but I _will_ find out eventually."

If it had been anyone else, I might have felt fear or anger upon hearing those words. However, as it was Pierre Des Arbes and not someone else, I failed entirely to suppress the laughter that bubbled out of my lips at that. If his intention was to put me off balance or even threaten me seriously, this was a terrible plan. He had brought me past his guards, into a room with just the two of us, and I was far from unarmed.

Impressively, the man's grin remained even as I retrieved my handcannon from behind the back of my new silk shirt and pointed it at about waist height in his direction. A nice dramatic flick of the safety to the fire position had no effect either, which was disappointing.

"Perhaps I shouldn't wait until you figure it out," I said, waving the barrel slightly, "Since you're so certain, I'm sure you'll find any excuse. Or manufacture one."

The Baron sighed and polished off his glass, before setting it down and taking up his mask into his hands. He didn't put it on, just held it. My resolve didn't waver at his apparent irritation, but I had to wonder if he was mad. Pierre des Arbes was far from mad.

"You took something precious from me, Lord Hunt," he said, with a wave of the glass.

"Not intentionally," I replied, "Deal with it. She's not a toy, not something to be fought over like children with candy." I was even a little insulted for Tam. After all, I hadn't 'taken' Julie alone. I hadn't taken either at all. It was Julie herself who had started our liaisons.

"Certainly not," agreed Pierre, "But if you stand in the way, you have to ask yourself why I have not made a move to... remove you from the picture yet." It was a reasonable point, but I had thought about that more than a little over the few weeks between my first meeting with the man and this one.

"She would know," I said, "And you would fail. At which point the Count von Glock and Madame Beretta would be making a visit along with a very pissed off Qunari." I waved the weapon from the wrist again, so he'd know exactly what I meant.

The Baron's smile went from one of cunning triumph to one of actual amusement, though I couldn't figure out whether or not it was because of his self-belief or whether he thought the notion of our coming to kill him was funny. It made my stomach rise a little.

"You are still alive because you are useful to me alive," he said, "You are obviously of military bearing, and these are troubled times. For the past two years, there has been fighting between we minor nobles of Orlais, over who should be the sovereign. You know this, I think..."

I nodded, remembering Ser Milo Duval and his cause. A dedicated man, Duval. 

"Who do you support, Celene or Gaspard?" I asked.

"Celene, but it does not matter," said Pierre, "Regardless of who I support, I cannot afford to throw away any advantage. The Game has become even more deadly than usual. Perhaps, there will be civil war. A lack of resolution means we must prepare for the worst."

Annoyed by the realisation that he didn't want to throw me to the dogs, I lowered my weapon to my lap with a scowl on my face. What he was saying fit my impression of him. Julie was important, yes, but he didn't strike me as the sort to throw it all away for a mistress. Besides, he couldn't. He had family to take care of aside from all of that. His legacy for one. Children he did in fact love even if he didn't love their mother in the usual respect as well.

"So, I am to be your personal flying monkey then?" I asked, causing genuine confusion. Wizard of Oz, in case you haven't seen the play.

"Problem-solver," Pierre corrected, "You will raise levies like my other manor-lords, and you will help me destroy my enemies." Which answered the question of why he would send me vassals. Can't raise troops if you have no one to recruit, and it's not like there were any real professional armies in Orlais. Soldiers were peasants, and peasants are tied to the land of their lord.

"And if I don't?" I asked, already knowing where this was going.

"Then I cannot protect you from the forces that will be coming," he said with a renewed triumphant smile, "Even if you kill me, they are coming. I can slow them down, I can hide your presences here, perhaps even stop them from looking at all."

"And you would do that?" I asked. It was now my turn to be confused.

"Of course. If the Chantry kills you, Julie will most likely be standing next to you when it happens, and I would prefer she lived," the Baron said, "Of course, with the dangers you will face in my name, perhaps you will die, no?" His smile disappeared, replaced by a keen interest in my response.

"Leaving you free to court her again," I nodded, "I see your angle now." In other words, it was win-win for him. Either he had a highly capable tool at his disposal, or Julie was free for him to pursue. I don't think he was reckoning with Tam's presence, or perhaps he intended to tolerate her. Which wouldn't go well either way.

"Originally, I was going to use the Revered Mother to deal with you and your mage, but when I saw you kill those giant spiders... Let's just say that I had a moment of divine inspiration" he chuckled, "So Marquis, if that really is your title, shall we cooperate?"

The finger laid against the side of my handcannon itched for a moment. My gut told me to blast a hole in his forehead, but my common sense told me to accept. I'd made a lot of enemies in a very small space of time, and very few friends with the sort of power that could protect me against the bigwigs out there. With a growl, I gave him a nod to signal my acceptance, unable to bring myself to vocalise it.

"Magnificent," he said, finally deeming me worthy of a glass of wine.

I picked it up, we toasted and drank. Despite my objections to the man's character, he had good taste in viticulture. I remember thinking that I really needed to sample the stock I had in our basement, we hadn't really tried the wine there yet. Julie and Tam entered the room and their eyes widened at the sight of us. Bet they didn't expect to see the Baron and I sitting down and drinking like civilised men. It was almost as if we respected each other.

* * *

The aforementioned vassals that had been sent me looked like a sorry bunch indeed, if you didn't possess my eye. Half-starved young elves, and humans that looked shifty to say the least. No one who looked like they had literally been dumped out of the town gaol or the slums, thankfully, but the idea of putting members of either group to work on the land as serfs seemed like a bad idea. The elves would wither and die, the humans would reject my authority, both would revolt. Thankfully, we had long rejected open thievery of that sort.

There were nearly a thousand of them, the vast majority between Ciara's age and my age. Young families with or without children, single people, and the occasional middle-aged person with a useful skill. The gender split was about 50-50, but the racial divide was more like 70-30 in favour of elves. They came with any property they could move easily, and I found the plaza around our home surrounded with carts and people when I returned.

The Baron had found them from the lands of the other chevaliers. Second sons who couldn't inherit and daughters who had married the wrong person or not married at all, these were the humans under my care. People whose lords they had pissed off or whose lords just wanted their land, often to be given to a human family, these were the elves I had given to me. To most Thedosians, practically all except the Qunari, they were refuse, both human and elven. To me, they were solid gold. Just whom I needed.

If they had been trusted vassals of the chevaliers or had never had it bad, I could have never won their loyalty.

I set about that task immediately. It took a week, but I sat down with every one of my vassals and un-vassalised them. They weren't to be shackled to the land by feudal crap that went out centuries before I was born on Earth. I couldn't have that, and I refused to benefit from it. I'm sure my father would have been proud to see it, patriot that he was. Jolly fat armchair patriot in his later days. I replaced all the oaths of fealty with contracts. Whether or not an Orlesian court would have upheld them, I don't know, but none of them were ever broken badly enough for the issue to come up.

Some signed up as farmers, more as labour for the new enterprise that Leha and I were working on. The most physically capable, I steered in the direction of soldiering for me. The pay for that was better, but the work was harder, I told them. Almost everyone I offered it to took it. Those that didn't were mostly elves, that probably didn't trust me as a human. One or two humans didn't take it when they heard I was recruiting elves... I discharged those entirely.

The former peasants were very encouraged by the idea of regular pay, to say the least. It wasn't a great wage for most, but it was enough to have people smiling at me and thanking me as I passed. The wages would go up once we started making money as well, which was a subject of much shock when I announced it. I felt pity for them at such times, that they could be that happy over basic respect for the value of their work.

By the end of the first week of August, I had lovers and friends, pasture and tillage being looked after, a distillery and forge working, two hundred good people ready to start training to become real soldiers as opposed to hired thugs in mail with hundreds more coming, and an alliance with a bastard that would protect all of it as long as I could put up with him. Not bad for a guy who was in prison about a month earlier. My outlook was genuinely positive on all fronts for the first time.

Perhaps it was the measure of familiarity that had been restored to me, mixed with the good company and soft beds. The grounds of our château had been turned into a military camp. The order of the day: Drill, baby, drill.

For the next few months were all about drilling. I'll spare you the exact details, they're boring unless you're into that sort of thing and I've set them out in the more widely published book _The Free Army._ To be brief about it, I trained them to stand up and march straight on a parade ground, to march and fight together with swords and shields in close order, to shoot crossbows and longbows straight with Tam and Ciara, how to lay out a camp, how to stay clean, night watches, small unit tactics, combat engineering, horse riding, and above all, military discipline. Discovering who was right to lead the others was the worst task. I didn't have the benefit of resumés or background checks, and what I dredged up from my own background to fill those gaps was limited. Still, I got it done, even the horse riding.

Unfortunately, despite all the activity, we would not be entirely ready when our first test came.

We weren't the only people drilling either. Julie was training her apprentices, the number of which had risen considerably. Thankfully, she had one or two other blacksmiths to help her out there. The forge building went from a stone hunt to the size of a small factory in the space of weeks. The apprentices churned out basic stuff like tools, nails, that sort of thing. The other blacksmiths made weapons. We needed quite a few of those, as you can imagine. Swords, daggers, maces, crossbow parts, shield bosses. Julie herself was working on more exotic things with the help of Armen and I, but we'll get to that in due time. She was positively gleeful at the results of the whole scheme, which was relaxing to watch. Made nights a lot more fun too.

Tam began teaching the children, which she took to as naturally as you'd expect for someone trained since the age of twelve for the job. Julie got in on that too, teaching Orlesian and Common in Latin letters. I've never seen kids so calm in school. I certainly don't remember being that calm. Then again, if I had a teacher like Tam, strict yet insisting on a minimum of clothing, perhaps I would have sat still. She managed to work out the books from Earth on almost every subject. The basic subjects were joined with science, geography, political education and music. I was quite startled one morning as I woke up, and was confronted by twelve twelve-year-olds starting up to play _Preussens Gloria_. Tam had a good laugh when I fell over in surprise. I still hadn't discovered that coffee existed in Thedas yet, so I was easily dazed in the mornings. _Excuses, excuses._

Armen seemed to become half-evil scientist, half-miracle doctor. He set up a laboratory and a clinic, and split his time between the two. There was a lot of suspicion at first, to the point that he was shunned at best. Only the bravest of children would talk to him, and they'd get admonished by their parents for the trouble. I tried to intervene, but Armen himself stopped me. He said they would come to appreciate him, and he was right. A wave of measles blew through in the first week of Kingsway, hitting the whole town. Thanks to Armen, no one among our people died. Many in town were not so lucky. We had a long conversation about vaccines, after I just waltzed around near the infected without a care. The older parents were still wary after that, but everyone else warmed right up. Probably helped that he could have been a stand-up comedian. Word soon spread elsewhere that there was a healer at L'Ambassade.

Ciara led the hunting groups and settled disputes, her natural endearing charm and tendency to get right to the root of a problem helping immensely with the latter, her skills with a bow with the former. Carrot and stick was her favourite approach, and thanks to her, I almost never had to deal with the crap that I had expected to bother me. The garden looked spectacular after a few months of her work too. I was grateful for her efforts on both.

Leha managed the enterprises, as she had when it was just Julie to work with, and although she had a higher workload, she seemed to be enjoying herself. When she wasn't sulking about the money we were spending on wages. Grumpy as she was, she did the job. We paid off our debts and were growing our treasury bit by bit. Money is prettier here I have to say, and the temptation to start rolling around in a pile of gold and silver did enter my mind.

Despite all, we always managed to eat together every evening, often far later than we would have liked. I slept with Julie and Tam on the west side of the building. Safe behind what had practically become a small town in its own right.

Or so we thought. Ben-Hassrath assassins or Templars might have caused alarm, but there was one enemy that would raise no suspicion upon their approach, one we couldn't yet oppose openly.

 


	34. Sherwood II

On October 24th, or the 24th of Harvestmere to Fereldan readers, the Baron sent word that he would be arriving with important guests to meet us. He failed to mention who these important guests would be, but the tone of his letter left me an impression that he wasn't pleased to see them. I had talked to him enough over the intervening months to understand that much, doing small errands for him which were far from burdensome. His intent for us was clear: Be ready.

This was somewhat difficult a task. Armen and Ciara were away on business, Mage Rebellion business, which left me without my best Dalish scout and a walking weapon, not to mention two of the only people I really trusted to have my back. Not having Armen around in case the others got hurt was another problem. The estate was already in some unease over that, wondering where he had gone to.

So it was with annoyance that I had the captains of my two companies called to the kitchen during breakfast. I knew them by their ranks and nicknames only, as I did with most of the soldiers. Part of the process of breaking down their identities and rebuilding them, you see. Regardless, I had them call a parade inspection for the time the Baron would arrive. Both lived in the château, the perks of being officers having been established as an incentive for people to want to get promoted, but the kitchen was off-limits to anyone but us. Usually. They saluted and went to assemble everyone.

Julie and Tam remained silent, until we were back in our bedroom, donning full Earth panoply. I guess they were caught in their own thoughts on the matter, until I myself opened my mouth to hear them. It was the first time I had worn the full uniform since we settled in, incidentally.

"Any idea who we're meeting?" I asked, as I did up the straps on my armour.

"Templars?" Tam suggested, picking up a helmet from the bottom of her personal cabinet, "Would they not command the respect to do this?" I shivered with the prospect, but knew that it was a possibility. Which was precisely why I had ordered a full assembly, why I was putting on Terran armour as fast as I could, and why I was bringing a whole arsenal out with me.

"Could be," admitted Julie with a wince, as another thought came to mind, "If someone in Halamshiral finally got around to figuring out how many died in the prison, we could be facing chevaliers." Yet another reason to tool up in my books, though the consequences of opening up on royal officers would be greater. The Chantry couldn't really afford to send enough Templars to kill us. The Empire had no shortage of chevaliers.

Julie hefted her firelance into her arms with one hand and pulled her long hair out from under the kevlar vest with the other. I paused in the middle of retrieving its larger cousin to watch her for a moment, my breath catching a little at the sight. Julie noticed.

"Are both of you ready?" she asked with a smile, eyes moving between Tam and I. I turned to the Qunari, only to find she was equally as captivated. Which cheered me up to no end. I stood up straight with a grin on my face, and placed my blue beret on my head. With my heart lightened, I nodded and held my weapon close.

We left our room, jogged the corridor and down the stairs, exited the château and went through the garden to the northern archway. When I emerged from the long passage, I shivered. It was getting cold by that part of the year, and all the leaves on the trees had turned a spectacular red-orange. Against that backdrop, I saw that everything was ready. More or less.

Opposite the forge, all two hundred of my little army stood in passable parade formation on the grounds, divided by company and platoon neatly. All wearing chainmail, liberated from Duval's soldiers, made or bought. The front ranks wore helmets shaped very closely to my own, with additions of metal strips on the dome, cheek-pieces and a wide neckguard. Most were armed with short swords at their side, curved rectangular shields on their backs, light crossbows in their hands. Others had longbows, round shields and spears, the skirmisher platoons.

If you're from Earth and you know your history, imagine the army of Julius Caesar mixed with that of Henry V of England and Philip VI of France, and you have some idea of what I was building. I had to consult the history books I brought through myself on that point, I am not ashamed to admit. No firearms means you have to fight a little differently, so I learned from some of the best of my world. Thankfully, things are better nowadays.

The atmosphere among the troops felt quite wrong, different from usual, but I couldn't put my finger on it as I approached.

" _Portez vos armes!_ " shouted the sergeant-major, piercing me with the volume and weight of her voice. She was a short elf with long black hair and the most capable set of lungs I ever saw on a mortal being. Which is why I chose her for the role, aside from her proficiency with a crossbow. I called her Sergeant Mike, as in microphone, a nickname she responded to as quickly as her actual name... which I forget, as I only ever used it once. The reason is obvious. I spoke words at a normal volume, she amplified them ten-fold. Simple. She also happened to be an ex-huntress of everything from bears to wolves, which helped.

Of course, all commands were given in Orlesian. Peasants tended to have only a passing level of the Common Tongue, regarding their native language as very much their first choice. Only among merchant families was bilingualism considered important, and even they spoke Orlesian at home. This didn't bother me in the slightest, and indeed the language remains the first used in my new adopted homeland. To the ire of our neighbours.

I was horrified as the soldiers responded to the order as if hellhounds were chewing at the bit to eat them. That is to say quickly and in a panic. Their practised choreography had broken down completely as they raised their crossbows to their shoulders. They knew something was up. Their nervousness displeased me greatly, in a way only the failings of subordinates can irritate you, but I couldn't exactly do anything about it.

Julie, Tam and I mounted up on our horses. Tam on Fritz, obviously. Julie climbed up onto her Orlesian desert courser, a beautiful white horse that was a good bit smaller than ours. She named it _Revas_ , which if you speak the Elven tongue should give you a hint of her mindset at this time. All idealism. My horse was a huge red destrier, a little larger than Fritz. Unlike my previous names for equine animals, I knew I would face combat at some point while riding this one. Keeping away from the comedic, I named her _Bellona,_ for reasons I would be constantly explaining. The packhorses Lucky and Bob were with Armen and Ciara, in case you were wondering.

We trotted over to where Mike and the two captains were waiting.

"They look nervous," remarked Julie with a frown. It was so bad that even Julie's civilian eyes could see it. Tam's expression was studied but neutral, as she rode Fritz slowly along the line, watching. Most of the soldiers bristled in a wave as she passed, looking like they normally did for a moment. So, nothing particularly unusual there.

"Captains McNulty and Soprano..." I said, causing a ripple of salutes from the two, "Why do your companies look like like they're afraid of something?"

McNulty at least had the decency to look displeased at the state of the troops, scratching his short black hair a little. My eyes moved to him, waiting for a response. He shrugged it off with a smile, causing a crease in his chainmail as he did so. I felt a bubble of anger in my throat, but the reprimand for not answering me in an appropriate manner stuck there. He was nervous too. I looked to his company, and found them to be the most twitchy. His subordinates knew it too. Given that he was usually either a tide of drunken comedy, the soldier's soldier, or bubbling over with genius in the heat of an angry moment, this was a new thing for him and I didn't like it.

Soprano on the other hand was entirely cool-headed on the outside, a stern look pointed directly at her columns. One that would have put the fear of God into me, if I was a private. The tall elf was intimidating to say the least, and from the first moment I saw her, I knew she was officer material. She was visibly striking, to be politically correct about it, yet almost as terrifying as Tam on a killing spree. Perhaps more so, because she definitely wasn't a fan of kids. I had suspected she was a gang leader of some sort before being conscripted into my service, due to the tattoos running down her neck, across her collar and up one side of her head. Yet she was very respectful during her interview, and clearly commanded the fear and respect of everyone else, so I gave her a pass. I was rewarded with hard work from a hardass. She kept her people in line.

I had been tempted to nickname them Carrot and Stick respectively, but McNulty wasn't a redhead, so I thought better of it. Besides, they reminded me too much of the set of characters I did in fact name them after. Of course, they're famous now by those names, so they can hardly complain.

It was the latter of the two that spoke to answer me.

"There are fantastic rumours flying around, sir," Soprano said in her unusually deep tone, "They're afraid that the Baron is coming to remove you." And put us back in our box, being the unspoken fear. Another lesson there. With hope for the future comes fear of the past, specifically that the past will return and ruin everything. In this case, it was not an unjustified fear. I was unkind to them, at least in my heads, for their lack of backbone.

"The Baron would do no such thing," said Julie firmly, "And if he did, he wouldn't send word ahead to warn us. No, this is something else." I agreed.

Tam rode back over to us, with solemn stone in her eyes.

"We need to do something," she reported, "Or else."

"You don't say," replied McNulty, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "We're sitting with our asses hanging out here. We should move everyone to the windows inside, and let loose with the bows when the bastards arrive." Which would lead directly to our deaths, in all likelihood. No way we could cover our tracks if we did that, but I suspect the good captain didn't care.

"Or we arrange in battle line across the road and attack them there," Soprano said, pointing to the spot she thought best, "That way, we can chase down any runners." Except the enemy would run to town, and we'd likely only catch them once we were in sight of the walls and its guards. Still no good, though her enthusiasm to cut down all our enemies was encouraging at least.

"We're not killing the Baron without seeing what he wants first," said Julie with finality to the both of them, "Is that perfectly understood?" For a moment, I thought they would look to me for confirmation. This was the first time either of them had been ordered by her to do anything. I was afraid they would reject her, or look to me as their sole leader. That wasn't how I wanted it to go. Perhaps they could tell that, out of the corners of their eyes. Ì was underestimating Julie, however. They both simply stared at her, before deciding their course as one.

"Yes, Marquise," they said, before saluting. To make sure there wasn't any bad blood, between either party, I stepped in.

"They were good ideas, but the Marquise is right," I said, "We can't shoot first and ask questions later. You're not entirely wrong though, we need to do something..." I clicked my tongue, and Bellona trotted off down the line of soldiers. Eyes tracked me as I rode along. They were waiting for me to act. To reassure them. I could think of only one thing that could.

"Sergeant-Major!" I called.

"Yes sir!" Mike shouted back.

"Load and present arms," I said.

" _CHARGEZ VOS ARMES!_ " roared the diminutive elf, teeth bared as her mouth boomed out the words. The entire line moved to follow at an instant. Those with crossbows stooped to load them, threading a foot into the ring to pull the string back, before standing again to put a fresh bolt in each of the safety-catches. Those with longbows selected three arrows from their quivers, held two with their bows and nocked the third. It was still pretty sloppy though. A couple of people managed to drop their arrows or bolt in the process. 

They needed a fight, I knew. A serious kick in the ass.

" _PRESENTEZ VOS ARMES!_ " Mike shouted, completing the command. All two hundred stepped forward a pace, and held their weapons out in front of them. This was accomplished much more smoothly, to my great relief. I rode back to the others, seeing that everyone had gotten the message I was trying to send. Combat could be coming, prepare yourself to act immediately without orders. It was good timing on my part too.

"Sam, Julie, look!" said Tam, throwing a glance in the direction of the rocky road to Hearth.

Down the avenue between the trees came a large procession. It was easy to pick out the Baron at the head of the group, his red mask standing out from the others, as the front ranks rode in on horseback. Behind them was a column of troops, maybe a hundred of them. They could have been the brothers of the men I had killed during the hilltop battle. Their armaments were pretty similar, longswords, shields, spears, chainmail and helmets. They were better protected than what our people had. They were carrying blue banners with a golden lion with them. I still had not selected heraldry or a banner of my own yet, and the lack of it annoyed me as I watched the sigils approach.

When they got closer, I could see the infantry were no peasants, at least not anymore. They might not have had the discipline I was trying to instil in the new soldiers, but they had the look that many hired thugs have. They were veterans of many a fight, and their scars showed. That had me readying the large firelance, checking the ammunition belt. Not that firing on horseback was a good idea, but a quick burst to scatter them would do the job until I could dismount.

They had three wagons with them, mostly empty, with only a few chests with them. That should have struck me as a clue, but my attention redirected itself to the Baron, as he rode ahead of the pack to join us with his favourite two lackeys. I nodded my greeting to him, which he returned before eyeing the lines of soldiers. I could tell already that he looked relieved to see them, which put all my fears forward in my head.

The mounted chevaliers, all thirty of them, stopped directly ahead of us. One of them at the rear called for the men-at-arms to stop at the gate, and he was obeyed instantly. Thankfully, that was just about the perfect spot for us to turn them into pincushions if it turned into a shitfight. I relaxed a little at the realisation that they'd have no chance in hell to get close to Julie or Tam before I could react.

"What is this?" I asked the Baron. The noble remained silent, and I couldn't work out why. His mask remained still, hiding his features, giving away nothing.

"This is a tax collection," said a voice to my right.

I turned to find the lead chevalier, riding from the far end of his group towards me. He wore a white mask with a gold rim and yellow feathering, the latter common to all chevaliers of course. He was a well-muscled person, I could tell, and he had an ornate cavalry sword to put that strength behind. Target number one, I said to myself in my head.

"Are you mad?!" Julie said loudly to the chevalier, "It's almost winter. People will starve."

"People will serve their ruler, and beg mercy from the Maker for their insolence!" replied the chevalier, "War is brewing with Nevarra and Ferelden, there is trouble to the south and in the Circles, and the Marquise believes we should be unprepared?"

"The only thing that money will prepare is more cake for your table!" Julie shouted, pointing a finger at him, "More gold lining for your clothes! It has nothing to do with swords to defend us!"

Of course, the supreme irony is that the money was for a war. It just happened to be a civil war, rather than trying to put the dog-masters back under-heel. A war we would not have to fight in, thank all the gods...

What happened next occurred in the space of mere seconds.

White Mask, audibly fuming at the defiance levelled against him, drew his sword in a clean motion and levelled his retort at Julie. Tam drew her own longsword, and managed to put herself between the two with a wheel from Fritz. Revas reared back to get out of the way, almost putting Julie on the ground. The Qunari and the chevaliers squared off, ready to strike. Tam had the advantage of Earth armour and physicality, White Mask had the experience and training. The latter usually had the upper hand.

My reaction was of cool hatred, like icewater had been poured onto me. My face became taught, I could hear my heart beating and the adrenalin put me in a haze. I had felt this before, and it's at moments like those that you can go either way. Consumed by this feeling, it was joined by intense glee as I raised the firelance to my shoulder and prepared to send a burst into the bastard. I knew it would be the signal for my own soldiers to attack as well, and we'd put the whole damned lot of them to the sword.

No taxation without representation, being the thought of the day.

If it wasn't for one Baron Pierre des Arbes, the war would have kicked off early. He lightly slapped the barrel of my firelance downwards, before nudging his own steed forwards to intercede in the brewing sword-duel about to break out between Tam and White Mask. My open hatred did not subside, but the mad urge to slaughter them did. That's the thing about bloodlust, it can disappear in an instant with the smallest of gestures.

"Ser, you must excuse the Marquise... she is of common blood, and speaks her mind as such," he said.

"Then you should beat her until she learns to hold her tongue!" the chevalier said in rebuke, as he lowered his weapon. Julie's hand twitched to her weapons, a sneer on her face. She didn't get further than that. The Baron had just sighed and drew his own sword, to my great surprise. Julie's hand moved away from her weapons again, and Tam even moved aside to get out of the way.

"Ser, I might remind you that I am the lord of this land, and you are merely a chevalier of no higher rank. No matter how highly esteemed you think you are," the Baron said politely, while holding his sword out, "How I treat my vassals is my business, provided they pay their taxes." White Mask growled an insult under his breath, but sheathed his sword. His fellows on horseback hadn't done anything this whole time, but now reacted with looks among themselves. My desire to kill them returned, in diminished form, as I realised that restraint was an unusual thing for them to witness.

"Shall she pay her way in defence of the Empire?" White Mask asked, with a glance of contempt thrown Julie's way.

"The Marquis will pay _his_ taxes," the Baron said, "The Marquise has yet to be joined to him under the eyes of the Maker. Her title remains one of courtesy alone, for the moment." A fact he was quite happy about, no doubt. The bastards both turned to look at me. What they expected of me, I understood at once, and although it made the bile rise in my throat, I complied.

"How much?" I said calmly. A wave of frustration crossed Julie's face briefly, before she restrained herself. Tam by contrast remained cool on the outside, but knowing her, she was probably planning how best to fillet the specimens in front of her. As I watched them, another mounted knight rode up to me and handed me a piece of parchment. I couldn't read any of the script reliably, but I had numbers down to a fine point thanks to Leha. The sum being demanded was enormous. Three quarters of the ready coin we had to hand. It wasn't a death sentence, but to pay it would mean serious sacrifices. Most would have levied it off of the backs of their vassals, but I wouldn't and couldn't do that.

Luckily, I had another option. Well, two other options, but simply killing them then and there wasn't exactly long-term thinking.

"You will pay now," said White Mask. Which I had every intention of doing in the first place. Paying later would have meant another visit by this giant prick.

"Sergeant-Major!" I called.

"Yes sir!" replied Mike, marching over. I threw her a large key to the basement cages.

"Set the troops at ease, then go down with six others, and retrieve the chests marked one, two and three," I said, "Bring them to the gate for the chevaliers to take." I saw the consternation and anger on the faces of my two captains as the sergeant saluted me in the Earth way. She ordered the columns to go to ease, pointed at a squad leader and waved him over, before leading them into the château to get what was owed. Once he saw this, White Mask sheathed his sword and waved for his bodyguard to return to the gate. He knew he was getting what he wanted, and now ignored our existence, like we were ants. McNulty and Soprano marched off to talk to their direct subordinates.

Julie, Tam and I all made straight for the Baron, who took off his mask and pinched the bridge of his nose. I managed to get the first word off.

"What in the fuck was that?" I asked with a smile on my face, and a hand on my gun. Pierre's head snapped up and his eyes met mine.

"That was the Grand-Duke sending a message," the noble said, "He has the men and authority to come burn us out of our castles if we don't support him or pay to have the rightful Empress removed." Subtle wasn't Gaspard's style, as everyone knows by now.

"How does he have the authority?" asked Julie, "We don't get taxed in autumn or winter, or people go hungry. It's a rule that's been around since the defeat of the elves!"

"The chevaliers are here to collect 'sword money' for the army," the Baron replied, "It's an even older tradition... one that hasn't been invoked since the Exalted Marches against the Qunari. The Grand Master of the Order of Chevaliers can impose it on any landed noble and at any rate he wishes... and that person just so happens to be Gaspard the Pretender." Apparently, Pierre was just as much a lawyer as Cecile was... not that it meant anything in Orlais.

"Is the Empress just going to take this?" I asked, "Isn't this defying her authority?"

"No," said Pierre flatly, "In fact, if she were to stop him, there would be talk that she was going too easy on the elves. There are already too many whispers of that kind, so as long as Gaspard keeps his tax-collections to the Dales, he will have no trouble with her interference... even if it funds a rebellion later..." I winced at that, wondering if perhaps I was backing the wrong horse. I already knew Gaspard had much of the real military types behind him thanks to Duval, learning that he also had wealth stolen from the Empress' supporters only increased my evaluation that he'd probably go on to win the throne. I couldn't possibly calculate for Briala's interference at this point, of course.

"How much did we lose?" asked Julie. I sighed and handed her the paper. One look had her rolling it into a little ball and throwing it away.

"We won't be able to pay anyone for months," Julie said, face in hands, "And we don't have enough to feed everyone for that long anyway. Maybe we should just kill them."

"You can't, there would be too many witnesses," Pierre said, through his teeth, "Otherwise I would have done it myself. You kill them here and now, and it will be the talk of Val Royeaux in a matter of a week. Then we all die." Which I could believe.

"Then our people just starve, is that it?" asked Julie.

"I told you not to pay them, but you didn't listen," the Baron replied, "You may not like it, but that's the truth."

"Shut up!" said Julie and I simultaneously.

"That man in white," Tam said, eyes narrowed, "I am going to kill him." I smiled like an idiot at her, thoroughly cheered by the idea. Which provoked an idea of my own on how to achieve it, get our money back and generally save the day.

"About that..." I said, turning to the Baron, "Do you know which settlements that cock will go to next?"

"Not exactly, but I can guess... Those loyal to Celene in the Dales remain close, for our own security. With Avvars in the hills and elves outnumbering us, we have much to lose if we aren't," he replied, "Why?"

"Ever hear of Robin Hood?" I asked in return, leaning in slightly.

 


	35. Sherwood III

Robin Hood is a famous figure in the history of a country named England, the birthplace of many of my ancestors. When threatened by a government that was determined to squeeze taxes out of every soul they could, particularly in the north of that country, Robin Hood organised a resistance that stole back the taxes from the collectors. King John, a tyrant who ruled in place of his brother in many adaptations of the story, tried everything to crush the resolve of the people of Nottingham, the town in which the resistance was based. How the history actually played out, I do not know and I do not think I ever knew it. The story versions are more interesting and hopeful to begin with. At the last moment, when all hope looked lost for Robin and his men, the rightful King Richard returns to save them and punish his brother for his misdeeds. This chapter is named for the forest in which they lived; Sherwood.

Unfortunately, we would have no Richard to save us from the evil King John. So we had to make do.

It was this story that had me shivering in the rain on my thirtieth birthday, October 31st, covered in a soaking wet hooded cloak on top of my armour, while sitting at the side of a forest road to the south of Hearth. Pierre des Arbes, once he had heard the story of the men of Sherwood, had gleefully given us the information which I requested. Though he refused to join us. It was a test of my capability, my usefulness to him. He wasn't doing me any favours, and I wouldn't be useful to him if I required them to succeed.

From that, we were able to guess the route that White Mask would take back down to Halamshiral. Word from some of Leha's merchant contacts confirmed the presence of a large collection party, exactly where we had thought he would be. I had really wished that Armen and Ciara would return in time to help, but there was no sign of them.

Still, at least I wasn't alone in my misery.

Aside from Julie and Tam, whose presence I could not prevent, I brought with me the best seventy-five of my soldiers from three platoons, one from McNulty's company and two from Soprano's own. All were wearing the same cloaked hoods that you'd see most elves wearing around town, the same as I was wearing. No shortage of those to hand, to say the least. It had rained since we marched out of L'Ambassade, so our movements went largely unnoticed. No flash of chainmail, as it was firmly underneath coats, and not many on the road to see it anyway.

Julie and I were with the vanguard platoon under McNulty, twenty five of the best bruisers I had. The embryonic unit of the 'Grenadiers', officers and NCOs of which they would become in later days. They had kicked the snot out of their rivals in Soprano's company two weeks earlier in a formation sparring match with double-weighted dummy weapons. Another reason I had two captains and two companies. Nothing like rivalry to encourage excellence.

Of course, the drunken loudmouth's guys couldn't shoot for their lives, not compared to Soprano the Ice Queen's sharpshooters. Tam was with the longbow-armed skirmishers arranged on one side of the road, while Soprano was on the opposite side with her crossbow soldiers, ready to pounce when the trap was sprung.

It was nearly five hours before it would be.

We sat almost entirely in silence for that time, the only interruptions for the majority of the time being radio checks. I had given McNulty, Soprano and Mike the communication machines for this particular job. None of them seemed surprised by the technology at all, and the latter was very happy to be able to report that nothing was coming from the forward picket. I had been hoping for a more amazed response, but apparently I was such an anomaly to everyone by that point that they hand-waved it off. I determined to up my game on that front as the fifth hour was drawing to a close, when McNulty wandered up to me.

"Since we're just sitting here, scratching ourselves to relieve the boredom, I have a question sir," he said, taking a seat on a downed tree trunk, "If you wouldn't mind."

Julie smirked at his familiarity, and shook her head. It wasn't like a commoner to speak like that to a noble. She was surprised and pleased at the development. I was too bored to care.

"You're going to ask anyway," I shrugged, "Shoot."

"The horse," he said, thumbing over his shoulder to wear we had tied up all of them, "What's the name mean?" I flinched a little in surprise at the question. No one had bothered to ask, probably as a result of the anomaly-effect I mentioned earlier. I was just a weird person to all of them. But I had gone around talking about the name for a bit before realising no one got the reference.

"It means war in an ancient language," I replied, "Bellona was the goddess of war."

"You called your horse _War_?" Julie said with incredulity. A sentiment that McNulty shared.

"Why in the name of the Maker would you call it that?" he said, standing up, “It's bad luck!”

Pleased that I would get to explain, I smiled. I had put a great deal of thought into the matter, after all. It was somewhat galling to have no one ask about it, considering how clever I thought it was. I was an arrogant guy. Suppose I still am.

" _Behold, the red horse. And power was given to him who sat thereon to take peace from the Earth. Its rider was given a mighty sword, and with it, he spread war and slaughter everywhere_ ," I quoted, "Revelations 6:4."

I was paraphrasing the best bits from the best versions of the text, admittedly. Both of my companions stared at me like I had three heads. So did some of the nearby soldiers.

"By Andraste, you are just scary sometimes," said McNulty with a frown, "I've never heard of the Canticle of Revelations before either..."

"Book," I corrected, "And unless you're from... the Far-West, you wouldn't have."

"I thought you were a peacekeeper," Julie said flatly, "That's bloody talk for a peacekeeper."

"My beret used to be red," I replied, "I am a soldier too, and was a soldier before I was a peacekeeper." And I thought I was Death himself, back in the day. Cocky son of a bitch that I was. A little too much Pulp Fiction on the mind, I think. Even wrote book, chapter and verse on the side of my helmet. Sometimes you need to throw a little mindfuck at people, allies and enemies alike. Easier to keep the peace if everyone pisses their pants at your approach.

"They're here!" whispered Mike over the comms. I clicked my fingers and motioned for everyone to shut the hell up. Sure enough, the regular thudding of hooves could be heard in the distance, even over the rain.

"Alright Captain Soprano, it's up to you and yours," I said into my mouthpiece, "We're ready to cut them off."

"Understood," came the curt reply.

I walked into the middle of the road alone from the cover of the trees and bushes, while everyone else hid. It was the plan.

The thumping on the ground grew louder, until around the corner in the distance came the chevaliers on horseback, in front as expected. I could see behind them that the men-at-arms were on the quick march, probably to get to the nearest town a couple of miles down the way. The wagons were in the middle of the groups, and looked much more full now than they did previously. They had a good haul and were in good spirits, I realised. I began slowly whistling _The Farmer In The Dell_ as they came towards me, which put me squarely in their sights. Like I said, mindfuck.

White Mask called a halt with a single gesture of his arm, and he was obeyed instantly by the troops on foot. The cavalry moved more slowly forwards with him, hands on their swords, and the same chevalier who had handed me the tax bill now approached. I looked up at him from under my hood, and our eyes met.

"Who are you?!" he asked forcefully, "Get off the road, _paysan_!"

"What moves on four legs in the morning, two in the afternoon, and three in the evening?" I asked loudly.

The chevalier roared insults at me, in addition to telling me again to get out of the way.

I held up a finger, then rather dramatically took down my hood and opened my cloak slightly, revealing my face and clothing. And the large set of weapons hanging off me. Mace, handcannon, automatic firelance. fragmentation grenades, small kiteshield. I could have sworn that the idiot's eyes nearly popped out from the slits in his mask in shock, as he realised exactly who I was.

White Mask shouted something, I don't know what exactly because I was too busy readying to shoot at the horseman who had demanded my name. Regardless, it triggered the trap beautifully. From the woods on both sides of the road, arrows and bolts hissed out of the foliage. Straight into the bodies of the cavalry, turning them into sieves. Meanwhile, Julie and McNulty rushed onto the road just behind me, the platoon of soldiers at the ready with them, shields raised and swords ready. And the finishing touch, an Earth innovation, one of Julie's secret projects; a thick weave of barbed wire was run across the road by two men with thick gloves.

The first part of the plan went absolutely perfectly. The bowmen had orders to shoot at the horsemen and not the horses, and followed them. No matter how good your armour is, being struck by bolts and arrows at short range from multiple angles is going to put you off your mount. All of them, White Mask included, fell. Most were only wounded, and not necessarily badly, but the falls exacerbated matters as the horses bolted, kicking a few of them to add to the bodycount. My handcannon killed my target more or less instantly, his chainmail and padding no match for the bullets. My head was entirely filled with battle, as we watched the fallen chevaliers take another volley from the treelines to keep them down. It was very satisfying.

The next part of the plan went entirely wrong.

The men-at-arms advanced up the road as a single massive hedgehog, spears pointing out of a moving shieldwall. Their intention was obvious; get to the nobles and protect them, then engage us. As I thought they would. Standing around and protecting the carts wouldn't have made sense. Gold could be recovered afterwards, the lives of their masters couldn't, and the lives were more valuable. Tam reported that they were switching targets, and aimed exclusively for the front of the mass. The reasoning was simple. Trip up a few of them, and slow their advance.

It didn't work.

The reason for which utterly baffled me at first. The arrows and bolts were bouncing off the shields, even the hits striking directly. Most of the time. There were a few going down, but nowhere near enough. Bafflement turned to astonishment as I realised that some of the shots were being deflected off of _clothing_ , never mind the chainmail that had been no real protection earlier. I waved Julie and McNulty over, and pointed at the group.

"You seeing that?" I asked, "What the hell is going on?"

"Magic," said McNulty, "Look, you can see blue sparks when the arrows land." He was no expert on the subject, but such a sight would be recognisable to any resident of this world as a magical phenomenon.

I examined the shieldwall, and saw what the captain was talking about immediately. They were faint and easy to miss if you weren't watching out for them specifically. A horrible feeling entered my gut, as I realised that everyone was now in huge danger. Julie, Tam, the soldiers, they were vulnerable to whatever mage was about. And I would be vulnerable to the enemy troops once my own were dead or wounded.

"Oh no you don't!" I shouted as I rushed over to the reason why I had selected this particular spot for the ambush, aside from the cover. I rested my heavy firelance on its bipod, on top of a chest-height rock by the side of the road, and sighted the close-ranked troops. They were maybe fifty yards away, enveloping their injured and dead liege-lords in a protective wall. There was no missing them.

I opened fire, the firelances pouring a stream of hot metal at the doomed men-at-arms. Tracers laid through the mass, as the magic deflected maybe one of the bullets per man before failing entirely. I had nearly two hundred shots to fire, and none of them were going anywhere except directly at a poor soul with no idea that his or her entire way of fighting had just become obsolete. Julie joined in with her own firelance, and then her handcannon when that ran dry. It was a bloodbath. Half of the enemy number died in the space of a minute, trying to shelter from the flying metal behind their shields. So close was their formation that many remained standing even after death.

It was ugly carnage, and I disliked looking at it even as I created it. But it put and end to the enemy's immunity to our arrows, and also put serious backbone into our troops, just as I'd hoped. The nervousness of the parade ground was nowhere to be seen now.

Half was still half less than I had expected though, the magic had managed to save that much. Several bodies slumped out of the shield wall, either gravity pulling them to the ground or the corpses being shoved out of the way by the living. Still, the wall stood. They were tough, or at the very least, had opted for the fight option of fight or flight. I guess running away seemed redundant against my firepower.

Peeking just over the top of the shields, I spotted a staff waving and recognised the motion immediately. Armen had shown it to me on the first day we met.

"DOWN!" I shouted, diving behind the rock as the enemy shieldwall opened up to allow the passage of the attack to come.

The bolt of lightning blasted like a cannon shot out of the enemy line and directly towards ours. Being electricity, you couldn't follow it, you just saw the flash and the afterimage of where it had been for a split second. The effects were grizzly, however. Instead of striking as a single blow, the bolt burst in the midst of the platoon and fizzled between the air and the ground via the men and women. They shook with convulsions, their muscles' spasms dropping them to the ground with dull metallic booms. I wasn't sure if they were dead or not, but I feared the worst when blood started out of their ears and mouths.

My mind raced for the solution to this, as another lightning bolt burst nearby, thankfully only shocking a few people as they dragged those who had already been hit badly away behind trees again. I knew I was outgunned. At least, while the meatshield was in the way. And therein was the answer.

"Charge," I said quietly into my radio, "All of you, charge!"

A great yell went up. A rebel yell. Soprano's people charged out of the trees, swords and spears out, screaming and shouting as they came down the embankment they had been hiding on. White Mask's men, knowing they'd be slaughtered if they were boxed in, countercharged on command. The bubble made of shields and men dispersed and what happened afterwards was utter chaos. The two sides ended up fighting their own personal fights. We would have had the advantage, the numbers were with us, but everywhere was under the influence of magic.

I scanned the scene for who I was looking for, and found him.

The mage was in the middle, two bodyguards with him, sending smaller bolts of ball lighting around with a spin of his staff. There could be no doubts that he was the mage to begin with. The robes were distinctive, and almost identical to those that Armen had. This struck me as incredibly stupid, marking out the most powerful weapon in your arsenal for any idiot to see. The Qunari and the Tevinters do the same thing. They might as well just wear a neon billboard shaped like a bullseye. That's certainly what I took it to be.

"Julie, you follow right behind me, cover me," I said, unclipping my firelance and putting it down, "Right behind, you hear me?"

Julie looked at me with the wide eyes of a new soldier, and nodded. She got the idea. I pat her on the shoulder, and drew my mace and kiteshield. I ordered the barbed wire withdrawn, and we waded into the fight, directly for the target.

Of course, other fights managed to get in the way of us. A quick swipe from behind with my mace or a burst from Julie's firelance ended the lives of any of the pretender's thugs. Which was great, because my soldiers who had been fighting them then rallied behind me and we drove a wedge right through to the mage.

The man proceeded to send more and more spells at me in a panic. The electricity was a slight tingle as I walked almost casually towards its source. The bodyguards' nerves remained solid though, and they stood fast in front of the man to challenge me. Foolish I thought, as I had about a dozen with me.

"Step aside," I said, pouring as much malice into the words as I could.

They responded by coming at me. A huge two-handed axe swung down at me, which I caught with my kite shield. The metal and wood split from the force of the impact, and my retaliatory swing was short. Julie shot the other man with her handcannon, who fell to his knees and then on his face. The mage sent lightning bolt at me, which dissipated instantly but blinded me, pain like getting poked in the eye shooting through to my brain.

The axe fell towards my shoulder, but when it struck, had too little force to do anything other than bruise me. I had thought to be going to the hot place, as I saw the blow fall too late to do anything about it. Another quick look, and I saw the reason for the sudden loss of power to the strike. A black feathered arrow stuck out from underneath the thug's armpit. He fell against me, and I bounced him away with my fist, full of rage for a moment.

I soon turned to appreciation for the shot, as I registered it. I looked up into the forest and blew Tam a kiss. She smirked as she nocked another arrow and let it loose on another poor bastard. All too aware of who had almost got me killed, I turned my attention to the mage. The din of battle was quietening down, and I could tell we were winning by his face.

He had used the time I provided to start building up a huge charge with his staff. I held my hand up for the others to wait behind me, before stepping forward a little more, arm and mace outstretched to either side of me.

"Go on, take your best shot!" I said, perhaps unwisely. Relying on my … ability solely could have backfired, for all I knew, but I needed to find out. What better way than a test with someone very definitely trying to kill me.

With an animalistic shout, he let loose with the electrical attack. It was practically a laser beam, solid light. He caught me dead centre with it for several seconds. What's more is that it was silent, at least at first. I could hear the gasps of horror from behind me, the ring of swords colliding with shields and flesh, and even the rain patting the ground. When it ended, a massive cracking thunderclap filled the air. I blinked away the afterimages, unable to see clearly for more than a moment. All I could hear was his panting, probably because everyone else had stopped dead with wonderment at my not being dead. 

"Well, that tickled," I said to him, still somewhat dazed.

"W-what are you!" he shouted, lowering his staff, "Demon!"

"Not a demon, sorry," I said, not actually sure, "If I had to guess, I would say fallen angel. Or dead." 

In an act of terrible and terrified desperation, the mage tossed aside his staff and drew a dagger from the back of his hood. Without a word, he ran at me, blade raised. I sighed, knowing what would happen next.

Julie shot him in the head, and he fell face first into the mud, blood and corpses at our feet.

* * *

The aftermath of the battle was messy.

First thing I did was have most of our survivors fall in for inspection, to keep up discipline but also make sure they were doing okay. They weren't. Most of them looked sick, blood-splattered and tired. Even as they lined up, I could tell. There were also fearful looks at me that I should have anticipated. After all, I had just revealed one of my great secrets. In order to save their lives, of course, and many understood that, but it doesn't change the fact that I just waltzed through Fade-lightning like it was less bothersome than the rain. Which it was.

When they were lined up down the road a little, away from the bodies, I decided I needed to say something.

"Nasty business," I said, "Had to be done. Over the next few days, some of you are going to feel like crap. Others will want more of the same. I'd ask you to just remember that we did this because we would all be going hungry otherwise. We couldn't grow enough crops to feed everyone before now, and we didn't have the money to buy food either. I hope you'll all forgive me for bringing you here."

"Yes, sir," came the loud reply, lacking in real enthusiasm but sincere nonetheless.

Julie stepped forward beside me.

"Also remember that none of you are slaves," she said, "They steal from us every year, and worse. Most of you know me, you've seen the same things I have. The chevaliers that ride through, taking what and who they want. The wars and blood feuds we don't want. Battles we have to fight in or die by the hands of our fellow Orlesians. Yet when darkspawn or Avvar raiders come down from the mountains, we are left to die until a noble's property is threatened. When famine hits, we go hungry, they eat cake. When a plague comes, we go sick, they get healed by pet mages. And I ask you all, do we deserve this?"

Julie pointed to the dead royalists.

"You have sent a message today. Andraste freed us from the magisters. She did not die so that we could be enslaved again. That is _our_ money in those wagons, not Celene's, not Gaspard's. What we gave their soldiers is what _they_ deserve! Things can change, and they _will_ change."

That seemed to restore the morale of the entire group. than what I had said. I was taken aback, but quietly dismissed the troops to start the process of looting the dead. Which they did as ordered, taking weapons mostly. We didn't have time to strip off armour.

"Well sir, we won," said McNulty, "Hope it was worth the risk." So did I. 

"Of course it was," replied Soprano, "Now, if you'll excuse us Marquis, we must see to the new horses." Two of which had been earmarked for their use. They both saluted me, and I returned the gesture, before the pair walked off down the road.

Julie looked on for a moment with me, before turning with a intake of breath.

"So, now the war begins, I guess?" she said, "And your secret is out."

"I wouldn't go that far," I frowned, "It's not like anyone will know who did this, and I don't think they'll be yapping about me walking through a personal thunderstorm too quickly either."

"It was bloody," said Julie, turning back to the carnage.

"Yeah, I was hoping we'd get out of this without a scratch," I said, "Didn't know they had a mage." I felt a little guilty about the plan going to the wall, but knew that it went wrong because I didn't have all the facts. The casualties were inevitable. Seven dead, twenty wounded. The latter was mostly walking wounded, although some would have to ride in the carts with those who weren't so lucky. We had a day's march home.

"On the bright side, those wagons look full," said Julie, nodding towards them, "And we managed to catch another twenty horses." Which was true, but didn't make me feel much better. Later it turned out that the chevaliers hadn't kept records of who paid what, which would complicate things.

"What about this one?" said Tam from behind. I jumped a little. She had been down the road, last I saw her.

A quick reorientation and the sight of an injured chevalier on his knees looking up defiantly met me. Blue eyes, brown hair, dueling scar and a big nose. Not exactly pretty, but not particularly ugly either. He was held by Tam at his shoulder, which kept him firmly down. Julie and I looked at each other in confusion.

"Who is this?" asked Julie, "One of the horsemen?"

Tam smirked, and held up a mask. A white mask. I chuckled heartily, not believing my luck.

"Well well," I said, "Aren't you the lucky bunny?"

White Mask remained silent, like he was being talked to by a cockroach or something. Angered by his attitude, I gave him a wide open-handed slap to regain his attention. The side of his face turned a bright red, even as rainwater fell down it. Autumn weather, another uncooperative force.

"That's for insulting my fiancé," I said.

"You're all dead," he replied, "When Gaspard finds out..."

"He won't," I said with certainty, "No one will." He did, in fact. At least as far as I can tell, he thought it was another attack by Celene's loyalists.

Tam's dagger sailed from its scabbard and across the Chevalier's throat, unleashing a waterfall of blood from the man's neck. Leaving him alive just wasn't an option. We couldn't ransom him, we couldn't imprison him, and we couldn't let him go. Didn't want to either.

"And that was for the people you got killed," I added, just as the man expired. Tam let the body go and began cleaning her dagger in the way she did after most kills. Julie looked slightly displeased, and I inquired.

"Were you supposed to do that?" she asked in return, "I mean, he was our prisoner."

"He would have seen you two beaten and raped, me murdered," I replied, "Everyone else starved and subjugated. It's war now. You said it yourself."

Julie grimaced, still displeased. Still idealistic. She hadn't yet had the experience that would mould her into the more pragmatic type. I found her admirable for caring about the life of someone who hated her nonetheless. I gave her a quick kiss, and then did the same to Tam. The Qunari blushed, God help me.

"Now let's go home," I said. The others nodded, smiling.

If I had known what was waiting for me there, I might have went on a little vacation detour for a few weeks. But I didn't, so we completed piling our dead and wounded in with the money and weapons on the wagons, and rode home, the rain finally stopping as we started off.

 


	36. Nightingale

The ride back to Hearth was tense.

At first, I thought it was the dead. The great majority of my people were very far from veteran soldiers before the ambush, despite their initiation in the military science of my world. At best, I had a dozen people who had been in a real fight before they had been assigned to me by the Baron, and another couple with extensive hunting experience against dangerous animals. In short, the deaths of the others should have begun to affect them, as their blood cooled off with the march. That familiar feeling of collective sorrow was not what I saw on their faces as we made our way back home.

I know now the reason why. Death was everywhere in Thedas. Hunger, disease, crime, raiding and warfare were all rampant. If you hadn't seen someone die by the time you were eighteen, it was a strange thing. This was certainly not the experience of people in my world, at least not in most of my country. Places were that sort of thing was commonplace are considered aberrations. Yet the sort of slaughter you could produce with massed modern weapons was unknown to them, something otherworldly.

It was a strange mix of fear, admiration and curiosity that followed me wherever I went on the column. I saw it when we loaded up the bodies of the chevalier and the mage, the latter in particular I wanted identified by Armen when he returned from whatever the hell he was doing. People made way for me much more readily as I carried the man, but contrary to my expectations, this was not because of the corpse.

I ignored the looks after a while. I was neither in the mood to confront anyone about it, nor did I think it wise in the first place. I was also too busy lost in my own thoughts. Trouble was coming because of what we had done, and I didn't think it would come from the Grand-Duke. I had hoped to find some documents, some record of who paid how much, but I knew that was a long shot. We hadn't given White Mask anything, and no one else had either. Their mission was simply to round up as much as they could, and seize property if people couldn't or wouldn't pay. This left me with a whole lot of money belonging to multiple others by right, but I had no idea how much everyone was actually owed. The potential for abuse was massive, not to mention the fact that if I gave back a single red cent, it would be open admission to what I can only imagine was a torture-then-death sentence crime.

To make matters more complicated, the person I would have turned to for advice on these political matters was God only knows where. I still don't know today what he was doing, but regardless, Armen was not with us. Ciara and Tam wouldn't know much, being Dalish and Qunari, which left one person.

When we made camp in a fallow field, as we were taking our time to return home, I waited until everyone was deep in their cups before quietly approaching Julie about it. She was sitting on a chest of gold, while rifling through another when I did so, a quiet smile on her face.

"Feeling rich?" I asked as I approached.

"Like never before," Julie replied, clenching a fist of gold coins in the air, "Do you know what we can do with this?" I chuckled, imagining living the rest of my days as a fat bastard noble. It wasn't entirely unappealing.

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about," I said, "There's no record of who any of this belongs to, and they'll want their money back once they hear we have it. It's going to be a problem." I had already imagined the barons and chevaliers turning up on my doorstep to claim more money than they had been forced to pay.

"That's not a problem," Julie said, letting the gold fall through her fingers as she watched it, "It's an opportunity." My eyebrows raised themselves at her suggestion. Take the money for ourselves. Maker knows we needed it. Of course, my mind immediately hit what I thought the big barrier to doing that would be.

"Doesn't that mean the peasants everywhere else will starve?" I asked, sitting down on another chest beside her, "The taxes were taken from them, weren't they?"

Julie pushed some of her hair out of her eyes, as they levelled themselves at me, finally moving from the raw wealth at her feet. There was a fire there, one I hadn't seen before. I was taken aback.

"The money they took from the other nobles was already stolen from the peasants," Julie said firmly, "We pay our people, the nobles take part of the harvest from theirs. The serfs will have enough to feed themselves, barely. We can use the money to feed them as well. And so much more." My curiosity peaked at that. Humanitarian aid fell right up my alley, and the more part was intriguing to me. Julie could tell.

"Gaspard will think Celene's nobles took back the money," she explained, "While Celene's will think Gaspard still has their money, as long as we tell the Baron that the convoy got away."

I pinched the bridge of my nose, understanding where she was going with it at that point. She wanted to drive a wedge between the nobles, and possibly between the loyal ones and Celene to boot. War would undoubtedly follow, at least in the Dales. At which point, we would intervene and win, because she had unshakeable faith in my own capabilities and the justice of her cause. The money would be necessary for it.

"Julie, there's a saying in my world..." I said slowly, "Revolutions eat their own children."

The woman frowned, displeased that I hadn't shown my immediate approval. She evidently had been counting on my support for the idea. She picked up a coin between two fingers.

"We took their money, Sam. We have a rebel mage with us. We're pretending to be nobles. We killed chevaliers," Julie said, holding up the gold, "Even before all this, we knew they were coming." She turned in her seat, rummaged through her bag and produced a book.

"There is no avoiding war; it can only be postponed to the advantage of others _,_ " Julie continued with utter conviction, "Those are words from your own world. They are wise words." I sighed loudly, as she held up Machiavelli's _The Prince_ like it was a Bible or a copy of the Chant of Light. Surprising for an idealist like her to quote the ultimate pragmatist, but she had consumed every page of political science and history I had brought from Earth by this point. She had come to her own conclusions. The mixture would prove potent indeed.

"I guess I was fooling myself," I said, effectively conceding the point, "I shouldn't complain, I was at war before I arrived."

"And this will be a war to protect us from tax collectors," smiled Julie, happy to have gotten her way, "I'm sure your 'Founding Fathers' would have been proud." I snorted my amused doubt at that. As far as I understood it, most of them weren't all that happy with the idea of war to begin with.

"And I suppose if we win, people will write about you as a 'Founding Mother'," I replied. Appropriate for a world where God's saviour was female too, I suppose. 

"I can live with that," Julie admitted. She would in fact revel in it.

We sat in silence for a moment, as the blacksmith played with the coins a little more, possibly doing a mental count of the chest as only someone with her unique memory could accomplish. Before long, she wandered off, leaving me to my thoughts.

Not liking where they were going, I saw that Tam was standing a little way off with a sombre look. I waved her over to sit with us. There was another question I needed the answer to. She came over slowly, closed the open chest of gold and sat down on it as Julie had been.

"Do you think the mood is a little strange?" I asked, once I had her attention, "Are they still afraid of me?" I nudged my head in the direction of the campfires beyond, where the men and women were warming themselves. There was a biting cold in the wind that cropped up every now and then, so they were huddled closely.

Tam looked at me strangely.

"They are," said Tam, "At least three groups asked me if I knew anything as I passed." Given the reactions of my new 'family' to the same phenomenon, I had hoped the troops would get over it.

"What did you say to them?" I asked.

"That no magic could harm you, and that you could harm anything magical," Tam replied, "And that I didn't know how you gained those powers."

I myself didn't understand it, though I would hear a theory less than a day later.

"At least you didn't tell them I was from another world," I laughed, "That would have sent them into a panic." To say the least.

"They wouldn't have believed me anyway," said Tam, "Let's just get home, get to bed, and we can worry about how we're going to explain things later." I just nodded at that, more exhausted that I should have been. I was looking forward to bed, the opportunity to do absolutely nothing and deal with exactly zero problems for a little while. Once the funeral pyres had been lit and the chants sung, at any rate. It had been a hell of a way to spend a birthday.

Unfortunately, Armen was waiting back at L'Ambassade with another set of problems.

* * *

The wind kept up the next day, but was thankfully lacking in rain or sleet. Considering I had spent the months before in the dry oppressive heat of the Syrian desert followed by the humid chokehold of the Dales, the change in weather was still most unwelcome. It was the first day I really felt it in my bones, biting me. I drew the furs around me closely as I rode on Bellona at the head of the column, not really wanting to see the eyes on me as we went.

We finally made our way up the stony avenue to home at about five in the evening by my watch, as it was getting dark. The orange and yellow leaves were joined by a blazing red sky. I took a moment to appreciate the sight, as our tired soldiers filed through the gate and towards the armoury to deposit their weapons before being dismissed. Tam and Julie both leaned in their saddles beside me, looking up at the sky too.

"Beautiful," Tam said.

"I wonder if it's an omen," Julie added.

I groaned, knowing that it was simply because she had articulated the point.

"Now you've done it," I said, "Don't say things like that, you've tempted fate."

As if to make my point for me, Ciara appeared from around the corner of château, dressed in her hunting uniform augmented by a thick woollen cloak. She spotted us immediately, and gave a wide wave. Happy to see her, I rode over.

"So you're back!" the she-elf said as we approached, "Where were you? No one here would tell us."

"So are you," Julie replied, "No one here knew where we were going exactly. Is Armen here too?"

"Along with some scary shem who held a dagger at my throat before introducing herself," said Ciara, rubbing her neck, "They're waiting in his place."

Considering how low a threat a dagger was to me, I didn't really think of the guest in our midst as a threat at all. After all, I was wearing a bulletproof, stab-proof vest. Along with several far more lethal weapons than a dagger. I glanced at Julie and Tam for a reaction. The former just shrugged, and with nothing really to say, we all dismounted.

"Oh, I forgot," said Ciara, "Just Sam. The woman only wants to talk to you."

"Well, that's tough shit for her," I objected, "Who the hell does she think she is?"

"Trust me, you don't want to cross her," said Ciara, looking somehow sheepish that she had delivered the demand, "Armen was afraid when she approached us, she's dangerous and from the way she holds herself, she's a noble of some kind too. They talked for hours alone when we were up north, and he came out of the room looking like he'd seen demons."

I grumbled, and contemplating simply breezing in with the others in tow regardless of this mystery woman's desires, but a hand fell on my shoulder softly. I turned my head, and saw that it was Julie's.

"Go, see who it is," she said, "It's not like she can hurt _you_." Which of course, was a gross underestimation of the person waiting for us, but Julie couldn't know that. Tam threw her head sideways a little in obvious doubt, but remained silent. She always did have a sixth sense about this sort of thing. Regardless, I agreed to the condition, leaving Julie to organise the sad business of the funeral. Tam simply disappeared as soon as I did agree, which did little to comfort me. I quickly ordered the body of the mage to be brought to where we were going, and proceeded.

Ciara led me around the château to the south side, where Armen had his laboratories. They looked identical to every other building we had put up in the weeks since arriving. Standardisation made a lot of things easier. The only reason you would have to believe that there were great and terrible secrets hiding within was the door, a solid piece of steel with an intricate lock. Of course, the walls were reinforced with metal on the inside too, so it was no small matter to force your way into the place. Armen appreciated the need for secrecy around knowledge from Earth as much as I did.

Leha on the other hand did not, having no idea where it came from, and was presently leaning beside the entrance with a scowl on her face.

"Did you get my money back?" she asked in a low, threatening tone. She pushed herself off the wall and stood at her full un-menacing height, arms crossed. I felt a little cheered by the sight of her, as money-grabbing as she was.

"Your money, our money," I replied, "And much more besides. Go talk to Julie, she'll give you the details."

Leha's face relaxed itself, her surprise at our complete success evident. Oh ye of little faith.

"Armen locked himself in there with some woman a few hours back," she said, thumbing over her shoulder, "He looked annoyed, wouldn't let me say a word to her. Got angry when I mentioned you guys."

Not sure what to say to that, I shrugged. "I guess I'm going to find out why," I said, before banging on the door hard. I unbuttoned the holster of my handcannon at my hip for good measure too, as I heard footsteps approach. The door moved back onto its rollers and slide aside. What I saw was shocking to say the least.

Armen was the first thing I noticed. His robes were dirty from riding, mud-splattered from the knee down. Considering he left in a wagon, this was strange in itself. The man looked exhausted and deeply irritated, his eyes narrow and watery with fatigue and his customary smile nowhere to be found. His staff was missing as well. Alarm bells rang in my head, as my eyes moved to look behind him.

The laboratory itself looked like it always did. He had been involved in materials research, so chemistry and metallurgy experimental equipment were everywhere. All necessary for things we were making or planning to make at the time. The room was dominated by a small furnace, while the walls were lined with tables holding glass decanters, test tubes and beakers. All of which we had made ourselves from diagrams in chemistry books, but I digress. None of this should have been shown to strangers, yet there she was.

She wore a grey hood over her bright red hair, which put me to thinking for a split second of how much of a contrast it was with Julie's auburn. It framed a beautiful pale face, save for sharp eyes and a wary expression. Leather and chainmail covered her body, again in grey, embroidered with the symbol of the Chantry that I was all too familiar with now. Her hands were gloved and held two daggers, which accompanied the shortbow at her back. It looked like she knew how to use them, from her grip on the hafts. She stood straight in the middle of the room, well out of sword reach. Which would have been a sensible precaution against any normal opponent, but not against someone with firearms. She would have had to run straight at me to get results.

It was obvious to me that the woman was dangerous beyond anyone I had met thus far, save perhaps for the Iron Bull. She emanated threat almost as a miasma. 

I took my own precautionary measure, putting my handcannon into my hand and flicking the safety off with my thumb. Sure I now had the absolute advantage, I walked inside and closed the door on Leha and Ciara behind me.

"Armen," I said slowly, my eyes still directed at the woman, "What have you done?"

The mage groaned loudly. As if to waste time, he dragged a chair into the middle of the floor from a desk, turned it around and sat down across it backwards, leaning on the back of it.

"Actually, it is what you have done that got us into this mess," Armen said, before pointing at me and turning his head to the stranger, " _He_ burned down the prison, not me. Ask him, he won't deny it."

The woman didn't move, but addressed me in Orlesian-accented Common.

"Is it true?" she asked, "And if it is, why did you do it?" The why being a necessary question, given that I was supposedly a noble. She didn't look like the kind of person to appreciate bullshit, and I wasn't sure how much Armen had told her either. So I decided not to lie.

"Yes, that was me," I said, "It happened when I was escaping, they had locked me up on false charges." I was suddenly grateful to Armen for leaving Julie and Tam out of it. They had been beneficiaries of the fire too.

The woman took a step forward, and I raised my pistol. The blades were now that much closer, after all. Surprisingly, she stopped dead upon seeing my action. She didn't know what it was, that much as clear through her anger, but she knew from how I had reacted to her movement that it was a weapon.

"Do you know what you've done?!" she said, "You've moved this entire world closer to a war with the mages!" I didn't know that, which would have bothered me more if it wasn't for her tone. Accusatory as it was.

"I had no idea what would happen," I complained rather fairly I think, "And you know nothing about me." I had an urge simply to squeeze the trigger. Not to kill her, you understand, but incapacitate her and get to work on a little Zero Dark Thirty as we call it around here. What stopped me was two particulars; the fact that Armen hadn't subdued her himself, and something she herself did.

She sheathed a dagger and put a hand in a pocket for a moment, interrupting my decision as to whether or not it would be safer to shoot her in the leg or shoulder. From the pouch at her side, she removed a crumpled piece of paper. She held it up, and unfolded it with her fingers.

The Statue of Liberty peered at me in full colour, New York in the background.

A falling sensation hit me. Why the hell did Armen have that with him? I made the sickening realisation that my immunity to magic wasn't the darkest secret to be revealed in the days just passed. That was practically trivial, something that could be waved away as simply a natural anomaly. Possibly even a positive thing, given the fear of magic out there. The same could not be said for my true origins. They would almost certainly brand me a demon, I thought.

I lowered my weapon, utterly defeated.

"So you know," I said, "Or at least, you've been told." She obviously had doubts before.

"Until you walked in, I did not believe him," the woman said, "I thought this was simply an excellent forgery, but seeing you... I can tell something is strange. Alien, even. You are not from anywhere in Thedas that I could know about, it is obvious. Nor are you from the Fade."

I glanced at Armen, who looked apologetic. I cursed under my breath. If I found a visitor from another world was on Earth, I would have insured that the information would get out should I not return from a meeting with him or her. It seemed entirely logical, if not inevitable, that our guest would have thought along similar lines. I couldn't kill her, in other words. I'd be inviting a war, when I already was facing at least two others. I felt like I was running around a minefield.

"I suppose I should introduce myself," I said, falling back on pleasantry, "Captain Samuel Hunt, United Nations Mission to Syria and Iraq. Now Marquis de Layaette, I guess. Who are you?" Hopefully no one important, I thought. Fat chance.

"I am Sister Nightingale," the woman replied, "The Left Hand of the Divine." That last part was said with an authority designed to insure I knew it meant something. She seemed entirely unperturbed by my military rank or the mention of the United Nations. Armen had probably filled her in on that beforehand. Of course, I had absolutely no idea about her. Confused, I looked to the mage for guidance.

"She's the spymaster for the leader of the Andrastian faith, or one of them anyway," Armen explained, "She was the contact I was working for in Halamshiral. The Divine wanted to set up a system of warnings so that radical elements in the Templars couldn't annul Circles without authorisation. We Libertarians agreed, and Lady Nightingale facilitated the escape of a number of us from the White Spire to act as her agents in this."

Which explained why Nightingale had hunted him down and interrogated him. Without knowing our story, it would look to any outsider like he had deliberately set off the warning signs to force the mages in the Circle Tower to rebel and escape. Which fit Armen's agenda, given that he was a radical Libertarian. We had plenty of time to discuss such things before this point, and I needed to know if I was going to help the Rebellion.

"I suppose a better question is why is she here," I said, "If she didn't believe you, she should have no reason to keep you alive or to show up at all."

"The drawing was enough," Sister Nightingale said, "If you had simply been a liar or a madman, then I still would have needed to come to eliminate you for undermining our faith with this mage. Apart from the agents, only the Divine and Grand-Enchanter Fiona know about this. Apostasy of this kind must be punished."

Imagining a group of red-robed men with wide cardinal hats bursting into my front room, accusing me of heresy, I let out a chuckle.

"Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition," I laughed, "What next? I kill you. Your lackeys come to try and kill me. They'll need to get in line." Behind Gaspard's troops, Celene's sheriffs, Templars, Ben-Hassrath assassins and the Baron himself.

"Perhaps I shall kill you instead," suggested the Sister, "Perhaps you will just be hurt enough to take back to Val Royeaux in one piece."

"Not damned likely," I said, raising the pistol again, "Either Armen didn't tell you about my weapons or you're insane. I'll shoot you down before you can even use that knife." No need to inform her that at this range, she'd likely have enough time to stab me before expiring...

It was a stalemate. Or rather, I was waiting to see what this Nightingale would do. I am less sure it would have gone my way if we were facing off in the forest and she had her shortbow in-hand instead, but it wasn't a problem we were ever going to have. Armen saw to that.

The mage rose, magic bubbling off of him, and surprised the Sister. Her dagger flew from her hand and stuck in the wooden support beam between the double internal doors. Nightingale moved to draw her other one, taking a step towards Armen, but halted. I holstered my weapon, and raised my hands to show I meant no harm. For all my bravado and posturing, I had no need for another set of enemies, and something occurred to me as I was watching her.

She was a high ranking official of the church of the land, with whom I had significant trouble. Revered Mother Brandon, not least. This was an opportunity.

"How about we don't try and kill each other?" I said.

She hesitated for a moment, but the contained yet angry expression remained. It was an opening.

"Why don't you tell him why you're really here?" Armen said, "Why the Divine is interested at all?"

Sister Nightingale looked at the mage with narrowed eyes, and for a moment I thought she would lunge at him. Instead, she took her hand away from her remaining blade and undid the step she had taken forwards. It struck me that her sense of duty to her superior was a deep one. That was good news, as I had no notion of stepping on the Divine's toes in my head.

"When Halamshiral's mages rose up, the libertarians tried to head west to join the others," Sister Nightingale explained, "But the members of the other factions were forced to escape into the wilds. Divided, both groups ended up caught."

I looked at Armen, and he didn't looked sorry in the slightest. He knew I was judging him for it too.

"The others were offered the chance to join the Rebellion, they refused," he said, "Insanity. They already helped to kill Templars, but apparently they want to sit out the war." It made sense to me. Why go running off to join a war that you might lose when you could flee.

"Of course they did, Fereldan is next door," I said, "You told me yourself that King Whatshisface is friendly to mages."

"The Templars of Halamshiral knew that as well as the mages," interrupted Sister Nightingale, "They alerted the border posts and staked out the mountain passes." Which could only mean one thing.

"They have them put away somewhere horrible, don't they?" I asked. The woman nodded, as she took her other dagger out of the wall and placed it back in its sheathe.

"It appears so," the Sister continued, "And now, it has become a sticking point between the mages and the Templars. The senior enchanters want them released back into the other Circles of Orlais, the Templars have sent away for permission to annul them or send them all to Aeonar. If the first happens, the Templars will reject Chantry authority. If the second does, the mages will formally separate from the Chantry and the Rebellion will have an army in every major country or city in southern Thedas."

Armen stood up and waved his hand flippantly. "In other words, you can't control your guard dogs," he said, "Proving we were right all along to want to separate ourselves from you."

"The Templars are going rogue because you agitate against them," the Sister retorted, "I will not deny abuses, nor would the Divine. Were I in charge, I would do things differently. Regardless, did the Kirkwall Chantry blow _itself_ up?"

Irritated, I clicked my fingers together to turn their attention back to me. Their bickering was getting on my nerves, and the solution to me was clear.

"Where are the mages being held?" I asked, "How many are guarding them?"

"Sam, you can't hand them over to her even if we do rescue them," Armen objected, "They'd be put back in chains, just so the Templars can kill them in a few months or a year's time." Which was true but irrelevant. Giving them back to the Chantry wasn't the plan.

"The longer they are outside the Chantry's control, the less the Divine can protect them," the Sister replied, "There's a chance we can resolve this."

"I don't want it resolved, I want freedom like everyone else!" snapped Armen loudly.

I was losing control of them again, and I had reached my limit. My pistol left its holster again. I lifted it above my head and fired it at the roof. The flash bounced around the room followed by the boom of the nine milimetre bullet against the metal-reinforced roof. A soft pinging could be heard as the bullet itself dropped to the stone floor. The mage and the Sister both looked at me, the latter with a strange fearful expression before she got a handle of herself. Clearly the weapon had been louder than she had expected.

Satisfied I had the upper hand, I lowered my weapon, but kept it out.

"We will not be turning anyone over to the Chantry," I said firmly to the Sister, before turning to Armen, "Nor will we be handing unwilling mages to the Rebellion." Prisoners or conscripts, I had no intention of turning my hand to making them either.

Both opened their mouths to speak. I held up my finger to silence them, while still clutching the handcannon with the others. Both shut their mouths in unison, the Sister with a great deal more reluctance. She wasn't one to be cowed for long, so I resolved to explain quickly.

"We will break them out of whether they're being held," I explained, "And we'll bring them back here, where they'll be given the option of living under my protection and supervision. I'm sure everyone here agrees that I am qualified to do that much." I was gambling somewhat that Armen had told her about my ability to repel Fade works. In truth, it was barely a gamble. The Sister had almost certainly got it out of him. As if to confirm just that, she said nothing, passively consenting to my plan.

By contrast, Armen went from angry back to his old self in the space of a second. His grin returned, fighting through his fatigue. I was glad to see it, and slapped him on the shoulder with a grin of my own.

"That should make things more interesting around here," he admitted, before smartly turning the conversation to practicals, "When do we go?"

"Unfortunately, after the funeral," I said, "All three of you, follow me."

The pair looked confused for a second, until Tam emerged from behind the experimental furnace's bulky mass with a completely unapologetic look on her face.

"How did you know?" she asked.

"You disappeared earlier," I replied, "Knew you'd follow me, though I'm not sure how you got in here."

"Window behind the furnace was unlocked," Tam replied, as she was looked up and down by the Sister. The Left Hand of the Divine took a moment to complete her sizing up of the Qunari, before giving a curious motion with her face at me. I waved it off and opened the door again, finding Leha and Ciara attempting to eavesdrop at it. Unsurprising, given the gunshot.

We left and went to the wagons. There was still one small matter to take care of. The soldiers were busy as we crossed the plaza, the ones that had stayed behind at least. They were dragging wooden logs and kindling from the storage sheds to the middle of the parade ground, and stacking them. Building the pyres for the dead, in other words.

"Has someone died?" the Sister asked. She was sharp, I'll give her that.

"More than one," I replied, as we came to the wagons. Thankfully devoid of the chests of gold, which were in the basement by that time. Julie was nowhere to be seen though. Probably because of what was still on one of the wagons.

White Mask's mage lay dead, the blood in his robes diluted with some rainwater and splattered with mud as well as gore. I remembered his impressive lightning attacks for a moment, the cause of many wounds received by my men and women. He wouldn't be burned with them. He'd be dropped in a ditch, far into the forest where no one would ever find him. At least, after I was finished with him here.

I pulled down his hood, revealing short curly brown hair and the pallor that dead people have on their faces. The bullet wound from Julie's firelance at his chest was obvious, marked with a deeper red than the blood his clothing had simply picked up from the ground. No one seemed particularly perturbed by the sight, though I remember the bastard's face in vivid detail even today. I wonder if Julie does as well, sometimes.

"Do you know this man?" I asked Armen, stepping away so he could see properly.

A quick look later, and Armen's smile still hadn't disappeared. If anything, it grew wider.

"Dupont," he said, "He was a Loyalist, related to the Counts of Dupont. He got out of the Spire a lot, practically lived outside, and he was quite vocally against us." Us meaning those who wanted to get out all the time. I knew Armen would know who he was, the robes were too similar for anything else to be the case. Each Circle has its own robe style, more or less because they source them locally.

"Why?" asked Tam, "Why does it matter?"

"I thought we might have more trouble on our hands," I replied, "Or maybe that we had an opportunity." And it was neither. We were about to have more mages poking around regardless, and the idea to return the body for some extra kudos was a poor one if he wasn't rebel-leaning. I felt like I had brought the body back for nothing, but it had been worth the shot at least.

"What now?" yawned Ciara, stretching.

"We burn the dead," I replied, "Then get down to business."

Business that would eventually see us face off against two factions in the winter snows, one of which we couldn't see coming, one of which we would have had to face regardless.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Christmas!


	37. Bonfires I

_The minstrel boy to the war is gone,_   
_In the ranks of death you'll find him,_   
_His father's sword he has girded on,_   
_And his wild harp slung behind him,_   
_"Land of Song!" said the warrior bard,_   
_"Though all the world betrays thee,_   
_One sword, at least, thy rights shall guard,_   
_One faithful harp shall praise thee!"_

  
A drummer and flutist played as the little elf girl with long black hair sang out the words to the _Minstrel Boy_ , her head uncovered and ears poking out of the strands.

I had just finished a short speech about their bravery, one that didn't measure up to my purpose as much as the song did. Men and women stood by listening, their fellows with torches in hand to light the funeral pyres of the seven dead soldiers. Not one of them was immune from the effects. There were tears and the air felt heavy. Even I felt a deep sorrow build up in my throat, clutching at it, as that little girl sang the words until her voice became strained. Then fire began to consume the bodies.

The singing girl was not the only elf with their head uncovered. In fact, every single one had put down their hood. I noticed this for one particular reason. Until the funeral, very very few would have been seen outside without their heads covered. Or more accurately, their ears. Soprano was one of the few exceptions, but she wasn't someone to be trifled with in the first place and everyone knew it. Baby steps towards unity, I hoped at the time. Which they were, but of course, not everyone wants progress. Thankfully, those sorts of problems were in the future, and for the moment, my people were one.

Word got around very quickly that I had casually walked through an attack that should have rendered me into fried longpig, extra crispy. It wasn't admiration or hope alone that was holding the whole project together, and those things were certainly there. Fear and doubt were there too. Even as we watched the bodies burn, there were glances towards me, mostly from those who hadn't followed me to fight White Mask's thugs. I wasn't the only one to notice.

"They're afraid of you," said Sister Nightingale, watching the crowd intently as the smell of smoke and burning flesh wafted on the air. I growled lowly at the statement. Thank you, Captain Obvious, for that wonderful observation.

"They don't know about the big thing, if that's what you're wondering," I said, making it perfectly clear that she wasn't to continue speaking on it, "They have heard about what I did before we met is all."

"You say that as if it was nothing," Julie deadpanned from in front of us.

"Can't take credit for something that isn't of my own doing," I replied, not cheered by her sarcasm. After all, I didn't want to think too hard about the consequences of my existence on this world. I did nothing to ask for my transportation to Thedas, and certainly did nothing to warrant my... power.

"I'm glad you are immune to the saarebas' powers," Tam boomed from behind, enclosing me with her arms with interesting effects on what I could feel from that direction, "They're dangerous. Every one of them."

Which was more true than I would have liked to believe, but I could not know that. The only mages I had encountered were Armen, who had no shortage of scheming but a lack of malice about him, and White Mask's personal human-cannon, who essentially was a puppet. Abominations and other assorted things would have to be left for another day. Still, it was one of Tam's weird ways of saying she was glad I was safe from it all, and saying she was glad to have me around. I appreciated it.

"Have I done something to offend you?" said Armen, approaching without his customary smile, "I forgive you your Qunari ways."

Tam made a face like she had just eaten something sour, but swallowed the response out of respect to the dead. Armen kept staring until Ciara punched him on the shoulder, and indicated to follow her lead in not fighting in front of funerary pyres. I'm sure he had a witty comeback, but I guess he could read the mood after all, as he held his tongue afterwards. Thankfully.

For a little while, we were silent. The only thing that could be heard was crackling wood and the waves of heat moving the air past us. It was strangely calming, and I began to understand why open-air cremation had such a hold on Thedosian culture. It wasn't just that Andraste had been burned, but it was the experience itself. The body consumed and the soul sent to heaven on flame. My mind wandered into itself so much that I almost didn't hear the next question asked of me.

"When will you march?" the Sister asked, "How many will you bring?"

I blinked away my torpor, having not expected the question.

"Tomorrow morning after dawn," I replied, "With everyone who can walk on two legs." Except for a single squad to protect the place while I was gone. As well as Julie. The stubborn woman had refused to come along, said that the Baron would be expecting his money and delaying was a bad idea. Breaking the news that we wouldn't be refunding his friends was also best left to her, but it made a bad taste in my mouth. I glanced over at her for a moment. Madamoiselle Marteau was engrossed with the flames.

"Excellent. I shall retire for the night," the Sister replied, "I will be joining you." Without waiting for a reply, the woman stalked off into the darkness behind until her form disappeared from the light of the fires. Damned typical of a spymaster, I thought. Clearly a noble too, or someone of a rank close enough to one; I hadn't said whether or not I agreed with her tagging along. She didn't care. Neither did I, truth be told, she already knew everything.

"She's not a cheery one, is she?" frowned Leha, "Even at a funeral, she brought down the mood."

"She has many burdens," Tam said, not moving her gaze from the nearest pyre, "That much is obvious." Indeed, she did have, such as they were. Some of which I would share in the future, and I was far more able to bear them than she was in some cases. I was already broken, you see.

"I guess I'll go sleep too," said Leha, "I'm not comfortable with this sort of thing, and I'll need the sleep." That got our attention, as you'd imagine.

"You're coming with us?" asked Ciara, "Are you mad?"

"Why on Earth would you?" I added. Leha looked at me strangely, and I realised I had made a mistake with that phrase.

"I've been hearing things all day, _Marquis_ ," the dwarf said, "Things I wish to see with my own eyes. The big thing, as you put it." I was at a loss for words. I had entirely forgot she had been standing there as I talked to the Sister. The dwarf could sense my unease. She had a little smile on her face when she walked away towards the château.

"Are you going to tell her?" asked Ciara.

"Hell no," I replied, "I haven't even given her a key to our library, no way I let her in on the secret."

I was gravely underestimating Leha, of course, but for the moment, I had bigger problems. A prison break, no less. Sister Nightingale had given all the details of the prison. Its location, layout, estimated garrison and who else apart from the mages we might find in it. She knew a lot.

I mulled over how I intended to defeat the defences for a moment, as the singing turned to the more traditional religious chants. The same I had heard said over Duval's men. It gave me an idea.

* * *

Early the next morning, armed assembly was called as I had ordered the previous evening and the entirety of the town showed up, it seemed. Not just people who lived around L'Ambassade, but a good number from Hearth itself. Relatives and friends of my soldiers, and their curious friends. I would later learn that my little lightning walk trick was the subject of tavern talk all around town, but for the moment I thought that it was just well-wishers, given that we were marching out again a day after returning with casualties.

Mike and McNulty had managed to impose some sort of order on the crowds, moving them off the parade grounds and to the edges, so that the troops could present themselves properly. Given how many hours we sank into getting the latter to stand in a straight line and understand why they needed to, I thoroughly approved of this. My little militia was getting close to being worthy of the title 'military' in my own eyes, a huge compliment given that almost nobody in Thedas deserved that title at the time.

I dressed in fresh fatigues, put on my beret, armour and weapons, and saw that the wagons were correctly packed, before mounting Bellona and riding around the château to the square. Julie and Tam were waiting for me in the middle of the space in front of the ranks atop Revas and Fritz. I also spied Armen, Leha and Ciara on a cart near the entrance, looking on. I rode up to the former group, and it was all smiles. Not exactly the reaction I was used to on going to war, but a pleasant one nonetheless.

I looked around for Sister Nightingale but couldn't find her anywhere. Troubled by this, I called over McNulty and Soprano, to ask them if they knew where she was. I had brought them in to give them the plan and explain the reason behind it before the funeral, so they had met her before and knew well enough to keep an eye on her.

"She rode out earlier, Marquis," Soprano replied flatly, "Told us that she would meet up on the road."

"Unfortunate too," added McNulty, clearly wanting the Sister in eyeshot for another reason entirely to security. No, not _that_. He had questions. Religious ones. Satisfied that I'd see her again and amused by what I assumed was the man's risky lechery, I rode out a little further in front of my men and women.

Before we set out, I had to explain what we were going to do. I had to know they were with me.

"Soldiers, I know that some of you have just returned to see your families and bury our dead, but we have another task to complete before we can rest. You all know of the terrible events at Kirkwall, and you will have heard of the unrest this has caused between the mages and the Templar Order. Most of you will also know that the Circle at Halamshiral rebelled some months ago, and that Templars have been hunting those that escaped. I am here to tell you that the mages rebelled only as a result of the fear that they were about to be killed without proper Chantry authority."

My soldiers' eyes moved, but their bodies remained still. They were considering the words. The captains had already informed them of the objective, but they had been told to wait for me to explain the why behind it. I continued, unsure of whether or not I could convince them.

"Many of these mages have been recaptured by the Templars. They are still under the threat of death at an instant. These are not abominations, apostates or blood mages, but followers of Andraste like any of you, yet the Templars will kill them. If they are killed, every loyal Circle in Thedas will rise and war will be upon the entire world. Unless we act."

Murmurs of disapproval in the crowds to the sides echoed around in the cold air, biting me as much as the temperature. The soldiers stayed silent, their faces increasingly grave. That was far from encouraging. Time to play the bluff.

"I have been contacted by the agents of Divine Justinia, asking that I intervene to protect these innocents in this time of crisis. I am a peacekeeper, a soldier tasked with standing between war and the innocent. I must follow my oath. I cannot however force any of you to do the same. This must be your choice. All those that wish to follow me, to become peacekeepers, step forward five paces."

No one moved.

My heart dropped, as soldiers began looking at each other in bewilderment. In retrospect, it was the fact I was giving them a choice at all as their supposed liege lord contributed to their uncertainty, along with the idea of fighting Templars in the first place. I was ignorant of this, and thought the worst. I had no choice but to try nearly alone, which would be much more risky. There were over two hundred Templars in the prison according to the Sister's reports.

I hadn't counted on Mike, however. The tiny elf stepped forwards in full battle-dress and raised her voice.

" _Bataillon en avant, cinq pas!_ " she roared.

Her voice boomed around the grounds, silencing everyone who was whispering or talking among themselves in an instant. The next instant, every single one of the one hundred and seventy or so soldiers stepped forward five paces as ordered. I gave them the choice, but it was clear who made the decision. They were beginning to think like a unit, a single entity to live or die together. In warfare on my world, you either come together like that or you die. In this world, it gives the ultimate edge in battle. Only the Qunari can command that sort of cohesion, and they lose it in battle rage more often than not.

The weight on my insides lifted as the faces in front of me were resolute. I turned to Mike in the saddle. The sergeant grimaced with satisfaction as she looked over the soldiers. Exasperated but pleased, I had Bellona trot over beside her. She stood to attention immediately.

"At ease, Sergeant," I said, "And thank you."

"You're welcome, Marquis," Mike replied in clipped tones, "Orders?"

"Take the lead, sergeant," I replied, "Have them halt on the road, the Sister should be waiting for you there."

Mike saluted, and made her way to her own horse, newly liberated from a dead chevalier. I watched her ride down the line to both McNulty and Soprano, relaying my orders before moving on to the front of the columns. The captains shouted their own orders to turn left and march. The ranks began filing out of the parade ground and through the estate's gates, drum beats and flutes carrying them along as they did so. I was reminded of the funeral, and prayed my plan to break the prison would work. The smell of ashes was still around too, and it would be again soon. Not in sorrow, thank the Maker.

"My Lord Hunt," came a call from behind me. I wheeled Bellona in the saddle, getting a neigh for my trouble before she complied with a shake of her head. Julie trotted over too, given who had called.

Élodie and Claire approached, their masks removed. They were both wearing workclothes, though these were clean and free of the soot and smoke stains that so often adorned their sister's own. The bags under their eyes testified that they were tired, not to mention their fatigued gait. They were slightly haunched, and as they came closer, I could hear that they were breathing heavily. They were carrying an item each. Élodie had a large pouch with something rolled up in it, carrying it across herself above her now visible baby-bump. Claire carried a spear that had to be twelve or thirteen feet high, but was thin enough to be carried with one hand.

The sight confused me. Bemused me, even. I remember thinking that they couldn't possibly want to join us to fight, did they? They were civilians, through and through.

"My ladies?" I said speculatively, falling into my false identity, hoping one of them would clarify their purpose. Julie rode around to the side, and stole my attention. Meanwhile, her sisters began to unravel the cloth bag.

"I saw you looking at the chevaliers' banners," Julie said, "So I had this made for us."

The two sisters stepped apart, and revealed a beautiful sight indeed. It was a silken flag, of the identical light-blue colour as my beret. In the middle were two olive-branches enveloping a representation of the Earth as a globe, all stitched and detailed in a blinding white. The edges of the flag were in a bright yellow trim, and there were cords of the same colour for securing the flag to the spear that Claire carried.

I was stunned. The last time I had seen such a flag, I had been on Earth. It was flawless too, so much so that it could have been flown on the world of my birth without anyone batting an eyelid as to its actual origins. The banner of the United Nations now flew on two worlds.

"I copied the design from the books," Julie continued, "I thought that if we must go to war, it should be under the banner of the world we wanted." I looked at her with a wide smile, and nodded. It was a spectacular gift.

"I hope you like it, because we stayed up all night finishing it once Julie told us you would be marching again," said Élodie, as she began to attach the flag to its staff, "You're lucky I wasn't able to sleep anyway." That was an obvious lie, but my appreciation for the efforts of both sisters was too great for me to be annoyed by it, and I simply chuckled.

"It's the best sigil I've seen," Claire added, "I don't understand what it is, though." My chuckle turned to a laugh,

The flagstaff was handed up to Tam to carry, and the Qunari stared at it for a moment while running the fabric over the top of her palm. Her eyes moved around, inspecting every detail. She liked it, I could tell.

"Will you carry it for me?" I asked, "The sight of you with this banner will scare the living shit out of our enemies, and you'll look absolutely beautiful to anyone else." Including me. The reputation of her people was well known, after all. The sight of a Qunari with a cause other than that of the Qun ought to give pause to any Thedosian, I thought.

Tam's warmer smile appeared. "That's a good idea," the Qunari said, as she moved her hold on the staff and raised it. The autumn wind caught the silk, and it billowed out behind her.

Julie rode up to me, and taking me by the waist softly, pulled me closer and delivered a kiss goodbye. Her eyes lingered on mine for a moment, and I realised that she was worried. Not content to leave her in such a state, I had to say something.

"Don't worry, we'll win," I said.

"I know," Julie replied, trotting Revas around the back of Bellona to Tam.

She kissed the Qunari in the same way she had kissed me, and then sat up bolt straight in the saddle.

"Take care of him," Julie said in a commanding tone. For her part, Tam nodded once, and the pair of them looked back over at me. I frowned, wondering why that had to be said.

"Shouldn't that be the other way around?" I asked. Admittedly, my male pride had been prickled somewhat by the assumption. After all, I was a veteran of wars neither of them could even dream about in their worst nightmares, packing all sorts of heat, and used to fighting with men almost exclusively. Both Julie and Tam grinned at my complaint.

"You are not from Thedas, Sam," Julie explained, "Now go rescue the mages, so they can rescue us." An apt statement if ever there was one. I tilted my head away, not willing to give her the point directly but giving away my compliance with the gesture nonetheless.

Tam and I donned our round Earth-helmets, and Claire and Élodie stepped back to allow our passage. Together we rode off to join our columns and wagons. Just before we passed the gate, I slowed Bellona to a trot and had a last look at Julie. She didn't look sad, angry, happy or anything. She just looked. I winked at her and smiled, before joining Tam in advancing to the front along the edge of the road.

We soon came up on the wagon which Armen was driving, Ciara and Leha lounging on the back on top of my toys. If they knew what they were sitting on, I wondered if they'd be so calm. I snickered to myself as we passed.

The blue flag did not go unnoticed as we moved, and almost every soldier lifted their eyes to look. This pleased me. I suspect it would have pleased the Secretary-General as well. Regardless, it was their flag now too. 


	38. Bonfires II

The weather on the march was pleasant for autumn, and warmer than it had been for weeks before. Aside from the cold breeze, there was nothing to stop us from making a solid twenty five miles a day. We probably could have went faster, particularly if we had loaded up the wagons with some of the troops in shifts, but I didn't want to wear out the pack horses. Who knew what condition some of the mages would be in when we arrived? I had already seen the inside of a supposedly civilised detention facility, and I had no doubt that the Templar prison was worse. I had been informed as much.

Sister Nightingale was silent with me throughout the next few days.

In the day, she rode at the head of the column with Mike or Soprano. I watched her a little in that time. Her head and eyes were constantly on the move, scanning the countryside to either side of the road and ahead on the trail. She had been trained in observation techniques of some kind, evidently, and I began to regret agreeing to Julie's demand to stay behind. We lost an excellent opportunity to learn more about the mysterious spymaster of the Chantry there, most definitely.

At night, the Sister walked through the camp, talking to a few people here and there, as if she wasn't some terrifying killer. She had extreme social grace, effortlessly injecting herself into any conversation that she happened to pass by. Closer to the hour to sleep, she would sit in a tent and scribble in journals for a few hours before turning in. I recognised intelligence gathering when I saw it, as primitive as her techniques were in that regard. Of course, technology greatly helps you along in that. It sent shivers down my spine that her reports would eventually be seen by the highest religious authority on the continent. If the Divine didn't like what she read, us fleeing to Tevinter or the Qunari were hardly sound options, or so I thought. All the more reason to have these mages on-side.

The troops themselves were in high spirits. Many of them watched me, waiting for me to do something amazing at random. I spoke to them, joked about the events of the past few days. What they called the Battle in the Rain was the main topic of discussion. I decided to be open with them as much as possible. They asked about my immunity to magic around the campfires often. How it worked, how I got it, what I intended to do with it. I answered honestly. No magic can affect me, for good or ill. I do not know how I had this power. I would use it to protect what I had and those important to me.

That last bit usually encouraged them, as they counted themselves almost as my possessions despite my removing their feudal ties to me. I wasn't exactly pleased by this attitude, but I figured it was the first step. Deference is not a disadvantage in the military, after all. As long as the guys up top know what they're doing.

When the Sister eventually did get around to speaking to me, it was the morning of November 5th, a few hours before we would arrive at our destination. All of us were negotiating hills and small valleys at this point, and it wasn't long before light snow began appearing in patches. I was riding alongside Tam in front of the wagons when she finally deemed me worthy of conversation. She rode up on a brown horse, one very obviously bred for speed and endurance. She wore a studious expression as she fell in beside us for a few minutes, not saying anything. I was intrigued by the horse for a moment, until I noticed its rider. Her stare was directed at both Tam and myself, I might add. It was more than a little irritating. Satisfied we could have a conversation more privately thanks to the steady beat of drums and feet on the ground, I decided I couldn't take it any more.

"Is there something I can help you with, Madame Nightingale?" I asked, injecting my annoyance into my tone.

The Sister's head jerked towards me slightly in my peripheral vision, but I kept my eyes forward.

"Yes you can, Captain," she said in a polite manner, "Or is it Marquis?" Her attempt at maintaining the niceties did nothing for my mood. I scowled at her, which just seemed to amuse the woman to no end.

"Marquis," I replied, "It's my real position now anyway." I was beginning to enjoy the title, at least when dealing with people who thought highly of themselves. Of course, Sister Nightingale actually had reason to think as such, given her skills and position. She remained an interloper in my mind, and a potential threat of unimaginable magnitude. She was definitely one of the few people in Thedas who had seen things on a level with what I had. I decided to have a gulp from my flask.

"I have been speaking to your men," the Sister continued, "They are of the opinion that you were sent by the Maker."

My drink went down the wrong way upon my hearing that, causing me to cough and splutter it back. What a thing to say!

"Good God, I hope not," I wheezed by turning to the other rider in our group, "Tam, do you know anything about this?" She kept her ear to the ground on things as far as I was aware, and I definitely needed a second opinion.

Tam nodded immediately. "That is the opinion among the women I have talked to, yes," she said, "Though I can't say I agree with it." Of course she couldn't, she knew me far more intimately. As for why it was women she was talking to, most of the men were either trying to get into her pants or were intimidated by her. She held a nebulous position in our military hierarchy too, which didn't make things easier. Still, I couldn't help but make the joke.

"Ah, I see. Just as long as it's the women who think the Maker sent me..." I mused. Tam grinned at that, and pat me on the top of my helmet hard a few times.

"Whatever you need to believe," she said.

"You aim to please," I replied.

This exchange elicited perhaps the most polite 'Ahem' that I have ever heard. Sister Nightingale's patience for such banter was fairly short, undoubtedly because I was deflecting from the main problem. Which was the point. I had and have no desire to be a figure of religious worship, but anyone knows that denying it openly doesn't work. Simply ignoring the phenomenon is far better. Thankfully, Julie would divert much of this sort of attention from me soon.

I'm not the Messiah, I'm a very naughty boy.

"If you are from another world, there can be no other explanation save one," the Sister pressed, "Either the Maker brought you here or demons did. No one else would have the power."

I chuckled at the absurdity of it. I was tempted to confirm the latter conclusion just to see what she did, but as it would have undoubtedly resulted in a confrontation ending in her death by gunshot, I thought better of it. Of course, there was a gaping hole in her theory.

"Or it was natural," I said, "I've seen no evidence so far that I was brought here for a purpose. Truth be told, your deity doesn't seem to be the same one as mine." I was having greater doubts on that. Fucking multiverse.

"The Maker works in mysterious ways," the Sister replied without hesitation, "He spoke to me at a time of crisis for the whole world, and yet I was unworthy of such attention." That was quite a statement, and it left my eyes wide with surprise. It drove a fairly huge wedge between my God and the Maker. My God didn't speak to people like that, not any more. Guess he figures things are a little too crowded on Earth for it to be of any use.

I wasn't the only one interested in that bit. Tam's head swivelled quickly to begin a intricate inspection of the Sister, like what she had said had meant something to the Qunari. Indeed it had, but for the moment, I was more concerned with dodging the divine bullet. Pun intended.

"The Maker brought you here, or demons did," the Sister said firmly, "That you don't know the purpose means nothing, it can exist without your knowledge of it." Which was a fair point.

Of course, we'd be learning about that eventually. I never thought I would discover the answer, but it did in fact exist. Magic was involved, so I suppose it is accurate to say that the Maker allowed it and that demons probably benefited from the process. For the moment, I was not going to indulge in idle speculation.

"It doesn't matter who brought me here, I'm not their puppet," I rebuked, "Anyone who presumes to assume so is going to feel it." Feel hot, copper-jacketed lead at high velocity. Or a blast wave from some high explosives. Either way, they'd be excessively dead. A warning that Sister Nightingale didn't seem to take any heed of.

"Tell me Marquis, what is your world like?" she said, as if she were merely continuing a casual conversation we had already embarked on. It was extremely frustrating, as she completely had defused the tension in an instant. How she was doing it, I did not know. It seemed wrong to remain with my guard up in the face of her complete obliviousness, artificial as it was. I sighed, and felt compelled to answer.

"Not that different to here, really," I said, "Except we are more advanced. Even our most primitive nations would likely defeat Orlais, Tevinter or the Qunari in battle, and their … peasants likely live twice as long." Albeit at no small cost. Firearms give you a huge advantage over mages in all circumstances, and indeed the direct use of mages in a modern combat is sheer folly in my mind. Though the particular nations' soldiers would probably cower in fear if some nutjob shot lightning at them with a stick. At first. Then they'd toke up some hallucinogens and charge headlong into it, Kalashnikovs blazing. As for life expectancies, they're only so high due to aid from more advanced nations.

Thedas had magic. Earth has chemistry. Chemistry beats magic. Most of the time.

"No elves though," came Armen's contribution from the cart behind, as if Earth must be entirely boring without elves. Admittedly, having multiple species did make things interesting. But also more fraught with conflict. Evidently, the noise of the march hadn't provided the privacy I had hoped for, and I buried my face in my palm.

"No Qun either," Tam added, a great deal more cheerfully than Armen had.

I turned around in my saddle to tell the mage to shut up, but was confronted with the sight of Leha looking like she had just been slapped across the face after being rejected by a desire demon. Knowing she must have heard the entire conversation, I groaned loudly. She wasn't supposed to be informed of my origins. Complications upon complications.

"You're from another world?!" she said, "When were you going to tell me that?!" I groaned and ignored her. She seemed to begin brooding, which was a very bad sign.

"See what you've done?" I asked the Sister, "Now my secret will be all over Hearth by the end of the week." Leha could keep a secret when she wanted to, especially if it affected her profits, but was most definitely what anyone would call a gossip. It was half the reason she made such a good source of information in the first place. Too bad that the door opened two ways in that.

"If they believe her," the Sister retorted, "Besides, that is not the rumour you should worry about."

"Oh, and what pray tell should I worry about?" I said, "I've already got enough trouble without that becoming common knowledge."

The Sister rode ahead and stopped in front of me and Tam, causing Fritz and Bellona to rear up slightly to halt. The whole column of wagons and the rearguard were forced to a stop as well, and the temptation to shoot her again arose.

"If the Templars discover what we will do at the prison, you will find out," she said, "And the Divine can be in no way implicated if they catch you, is that clear?" I snorted my disdain for whatever the Templars regarded as force.

"Allow me to make something clear myself," I replied, "You are a primitive. The Templars are primitives. Everyone here, is a primitive. How you look upon an Avvar raiding party is exactly how I see all of your societies. You're freakin' barbarians with bows and arrows. All I want to do is live in peace, but if I'm threatened with death and torture, I'll have no choice but to show you all what war really is."

Needless to say, I had my fill of threats from every quarter. To hell with Orlais, the Chantry, the Qun, and every little tinpot prick from the Dales to Par Vollen. I had the knowledge to undo entire nations if I needed it. It was getting hard to follow my determination to keep Earth weapons technology off the table. Especially when all the powers that be seemed to want from me was death. The only people not worthy of utter contempt were those in my inner circle, and there was hope for those in my charge.

I guess Julie and Tam were rubbing off on me. Phrasing.

The Sister was not impressed with my little speech, to my complete lack of surprise. She was clearly contemptuous of my threats, as much as I was of hers. Given that she was extremely dangerous, as well as stubborn to the point of being utterly certain in her convictions, that was inevitable. Her eyes penetrated me with her disdain. I kept a straight face and looked right back. It went like that for a few more seconds, until Tam rode alongside with her hand on her longsword. Nightingale broke off her gaze.

"We shall see," she said, before finally allowing the resumption of the march. Indeed we would.

* * *

The prison at Wolf's Lair was in the foothills of the mountains that separated Ferelden from Orlais, north of the Emprise du Lion and east of Hearth. Its surroundings were what you'd expect; tall evergreen trees with hardy shrubs clinging to more rocky areas, exposed stone in increasing regularity as we ascended higher, wildlife thinning out for reasons the name of the place probably gives away. Wolves tracked our column cautiously in the forest. I was disturbed that any such animals would act that way towards humans or elves, but I was still living in an Earth mindset, wherein wolves were taught long ago to fear us, hunted by wolfhounds and firelances.

We had plenty of information on the prison itself courtesy of Sister Nightingale, but seeing it in person was quite a different thing. It was constructed at the site of an old dwarva lyrium mine, cut into the side of a large cliff and protected by a curtail wall. There was a large space between the wall and the cliff face, studded with buildings where the guards and staff lived and where supplies were kept. The mine entrances were beyond those, capped with metal cage doors. Those mines were where the prisoners lived, in a complex miles long cut into the rock.

For years, the tunnels had been the only independent source of lyrium in the entire world, until the supply ran dry and Orlais turned it into a prison. That was a long time ago. The Templars took over control only a few years before when it was discovered the place had strong anti-magical properties, making it the perfect place to house mages that had deviant views. Death wasn't enough for such people in the eyes of the Templars, but there were only a few ever imprisoned until Halamshiral's Circle threw off their chains and escaped. There were possibly as many as five hundred mages of all ages trapped behind metal and stone defences, guarded by two hundred Templars and an unknown number of Chantry attendants.

It was a complicated set of circumstances to negotiate.

I looked up at the walls from the edge of the treeline, behind which we were hiding. They were lit up an angry red by the low winter sun. They weren't particularly large, just large enough to fend off the mountain raiders and darkspawn attacks that occasionally came along. It still would have taken ladders or siege towers to scale them. My weapons could crack them most likely, but getting close enough to do it and then withdrawing from the blast once the Templars were aware of our presences would be impossible. We didn't have time to lay siege or build enough ladders to make that an option, and it would cost me more lives than I was willing to pay. Perhaps even my own life, though I was less worried about that. Thought maybe I'd even wake up from the whole Thedas thing if I did.

I was contemplating what to do, when Sister Nightingale approached from behind. I felt she could answer a few questions of mine, so I waved her over.

"I don't suppose you have a trebuchet under your chainmail?" I asked flippantly, "Otherwise this is going to be a problem." Tossing satchel charges by medieval catapult would have worked, to say the least.

The Sister stepped further forward with a frown, her eyes scanning the battlements until a resigned air crossed them. She had known about the problem beforehand, I realised. I groaned inwardly, and got out my binoculars. The spymaster was testing me. Assessing my capabilities and philosophies, seeing what I would do when confronted with this problem, what I would think of it and how I would overcome it if at all. I was being judged, and I had no intention of failing under inspection by a major political force.

"I'm afraid not, Marquis," she said flatly, "What will you do?"

It was a good question.

My thoughts moved to my imperatives, what I was looking to achieve. I needed to get inside the prison to free the mages, and I couldn't take casualties doing it. To do that, I needed to get my own battalion past or over the walls to engage the Templars, preferably before they could bring their full strength off of guard duties in the mines and around the entrances. Or before they could begin reprisals or hostage taking against the prisoners. Something occurred to me.

I brought my binoculars up to my eyes and scanned the top of the wall and the towers that punctuated it. As I thought, there were very few guards looking out into the evening forest gloom. One per tower, as far as I could tell and two in the gatehouse. Like many prisons, they were more concerned about the prisoners breaking out than people trying to break in. Probably more so given that the inmates could shoot fire from their fingertips. That opened up two possibilities, ranked by desirability.

"Sister Nightingale, how familiar are you with the Templars?" I asked, "Their doctrines and ideas, especially."

The Sister tilted her head at the question, not sure how it was relevant to getting inside. She nodded slightly before answering, as if she had noted my move.

"I am as familiar as it is possible to be, without being a Templar anyway," she replied, "I am knowledgeable of all their traits, both open and secret." As the Divine had ordered her to be, no doubt. The Templars were already becoming rebellious themselves.

I smiled, glad to hear that I wouldn't just be guessing.

"If I made a show of force, would they surrender?" I asked. Offering them the opportunity after encouraging their compliance was a classic peacekeeping tactic, one that I had used successfully myself on one or two occasions. Nothing quite like seeing an angry crowd back off at the collective click of firelances being readied to shoot. Unfortunately, Templars are not a mob or even soldiers.

The Sister's eyes and mouth both smirked at my naiveté, like the idea was entirely absurd. I pinched the bridge of my nose in frustration.

"They would certainly not surrender. They are charged with the imprisonment of hundreds of apostates," she said, "In fact, they are likely to attempt to kill the mages if they discover your goal." Which meant we couldn't give the Templars the opportunity to do so, which also meant putting the lives of my soldiers on the line beyond what I was comfortable with. Most of them were still green.

"That's just great," I muttered.

There was only one route to victory left open to me. The towers at the outermost edges were vulnerable because of the surrounding stone. They had blindspots that I could exploit. Just not with my entire force.

"Well, I guess this means we're going rock climbing," I said flippantly. The Sister simply stared back at me, not quite getting my meaning.

 


	39. Bonfires III

I was unable to take the bare minimum of people, to my chagrin. Tam and Ciara were the two essential people, and originally I planned to go with them alone. They were both adept at sneaking about, and both utterly deadly with weapons far more quiet than my own. I had no desire to sound alarms with gunfire, so until we accomplished what I intended, I would need their skills. However, as Ciara donned Earth panoply for the first time and we got together the toys to crack the prison wide open, others invited themselves along to join us.

First to declare herself with frustrating inevitability was Sister Nightingale. She hadn't really left my side since we had arrived, but did not seem interested in helping us along until I started pulling some interesting devices out. We'll get to those, but she wanted to make a full report to her superiors. I had no problem with that. I wanted to intimidate the powers-that-be, and I could tell she would be as useful as Tam and Ciara. She carried similar weapons and carried herself like a veteran. In truth, she was far more deadly than either of them, at least at that moment, but when you've walked through a Blight and faced an Archdemon...

The next person to wander into our circle of wagons was very surprising. Leha trotted in with a grim face, wearing chainmail, a sword on her belt, and hefting a crossbow over her shoulder. After a few threats of blackmail and withdrawing her services, I gave in to her request to join us. She wanted to keep me nearby, to watch me, albeit for different reasons than the Sister did. The unintended revelation that I wasn't born of Thedas had made an impression. There would be consequences to that, but for the moment, she was quietly assessing if it was true or not. What we would do was confirmation enough for anyone, I think.

There was another who would tag along without our knowledge, but that grinning idiot was nowhere to be found as we moved out as the sky darkened. Sister Nightingale kindly informed us that the Templars took their evening meal at a certain time after sunset. As that moment approached, we skulked out from the treeline and made our way to the right of the walls until we met the rock in front of us. It was the surprisingly gentle slope that made its way up until it met the wall near the arrowslit of the far tower. I made sure we could actually make it, standing myself up on the stone awkwardly. It was difficult but far from impossible, even with the weight we were carrying.

Only one thing left to do before the hike.

"Batallion, sound off," I said in Orlesian over the radio. I needed to know if everyone else was in place.

One by one, the platoons sounded off in order of precedence. Red, Gold, Blue, Green, all standing by, ready to move when I gave the order. Red Platoon under the command of Sergeant Mike were _les Enfants Perdus_ , the forlorn hope, and I had given her our blue banner to carry in the hope that it would give them the extra confidence to commit everything to the charge. I detected no wavering in the voices of any of my subordinates. If anything, Soprano sounded positively eager, and McNulty as jaded as ever. Any doubts that I had failed in my preparations disappeared, and I gathered my team around for a final chat.

"Alright, like we discussed," I said, "We're going up, through that tower, along the wall to the gatehouse. No speaking unless absolutely necessary. I'll be relying on you guys to do the ugly stuff until we get there or until we're discovered. Any questions?"

Ciara put her hand up, something she learned from watching Tam's schoolkids no doubt. With a smirk, I nodded to her.

"What do we do if we are discovered?" she asked.

"Assuming we can't get to the gatehouse, we kill our way to the mines and release the mages," I replied, "Best pray they're strong enough to help us." I had no doubt we could make it that far if it came to it, but getting out afterwards would very much depend on how lively the mages were. It was a messy Plan B, and one I hoped to avoid. One that would have failed.

"Can we get climbing?" Leha asked impatiently, "Standing around here is giving me a bad feeling."

"One thing," Tam said.

The Qunari grabbed me and pushed her lips against mine. I was entirely unprepared, so it was awkward as hell, but filled me with the familiar warm feeling nonetheless. Part of me wished she hadn't. Kisses for luck were often bad luck, in my experience. We parted and she turned, taking the lead on the narrow escarpment. Given her distrust of mages, one might have thought she would be less eager to get into a fight to free them, but I think she was doing it for me. I'm glad she had that level of trust in me.

Leha followed her up next, scrambling over the waist height stone that met the patchy grass under us and keeping her crossbow at the ready with one hand. It was as I watched her exertions that I noticed the look that the Sister was giving me. I could tell it was about Tam and I. It was apparently an unusual arrangement even without Julie's domineering presence.

"Is there something wrong, Sister?" I asked flatly, somewhat irritated by her curiosity on the subject.

"Nothing at all, Marquis," she replied, "You managed to surprise me. Not many can do that." The spymaster stepped forwards and fell in behind Leha, leaving Ciara and myself behind with an air of complete superiority, leaving me unsure whether she approved or disapproved of what had just happened.

Ciara shook her head.

"You need to watch that shem, Sam," she said, her lyrical accent deepened with warning, "I get this feeling when I'm near her, like she could kill you with her shadow." I hmm'ed my agreement with that.

We began climbing, Ciara taking the rear.

It was hard going. The rock had gathered the rain in some places, and was loose in others. As we climbed higher, the wind picked up and the water turned to ice. I had to pick every footfall with absolute precision to avoid falling, sometimes crawling along on my stomach to get over obstacles that regularly stuck out of the face of the stone. It was miserable and cold, but we were getting the drop on our opponents. At intervals, I called a halt quietly and inspected the walls. The guards were either distracted or looking out into the night, not up at the mountain.

All went smoothly until we came close to the tower.

It was Leha who gave us the first real hiccup. The path, if you could call it that, narrowed even more as we approached the meeting point of the tower and the rock. Worse, the ground was loose, full of pebbles worn down by freeze-thaw from further above. Leha, still holding her crossbow, wasn't using both her hands to cling to the sides, and the act of doing so unbalanced her.

She slipped and fell, grabbing the edge with her one free hand and thus saving her own life. I winced as I watched Tam pull the dwarf back up. The damage had already been done. A large number of stones fell with her, knocking loudly against the cliff and coming to a halt on the ground with harsh cracking sounds. My eyes tracked immediately to the nearest guard. We were close enough that binoculars were unnecessary.

Time seemed to slow as the man turned about, his tabard emblazoned with the flaming sword of his order clearly visible now. He was armed with a bow, and was protected by chainmail and a helmet. His eyes met mine. My hands moved automatically to my weapon. I could tell I wouldn't make it in time. The guard's mouth opened to shout the alarm.

An white fletched arrow zipped into his throat, sticking there.

The bowman collapsed, clutching the bloody mess under his chin, dropping his weapon. He began gurgling, which made me sick to my stomach. Yet I felt relieved at the same time. Our cover was intact, as far as I could tell. I looked around to see which of my companions had shot the arrow. I found Sister Nightingale putting her short composite bow away, grim satisfaction on her face. I have to admit that this was the moment I began to respect her. She had acted with complete grace and without hesitation to save us all. I told her this in later years, and all she did in reply was smile. Alas, at the time, we didn't have time for pleasantries like that.

I signalled Tam to scale the six feet to the top of the tower ahead, and she gave me a thumbs up before moving the last thirty metres along the cliff to carry out my command. She pulled herself up with no trouble at all, lifted each of us by the hand up and over. We were in, to my immense happiness. Now it was time to fight.

"Weapons out, kill anyone who gets in our way," I ordered, before pulling out what I had selected for the job. It was a shotgun, a smoothbore firelance that could fire solid slugs or multiple metal balls similar to what you might see from a Qunari swivelgun. An up close and personal weapon.

I covered the hatch to the tower itself, while Tam opened it. It was empty, save for a table with some food on it and a chair by the arrowslit. No surprises. Things were looking up.

I climbed down the ladder first, and gingerly opened the door to the wall. Torches and oil lamps stood in between the crenellations, putting a little light onto the battlements, but otherwise it was very dark. There was no sign of any other guards in the space to the next tower, which I was glad for. None except the cooling corpse of the one that the Sister had shot, anyway. Unlucky bastard.

"We're clear to the next tower," I said, "Let's go."

I led the way across at a casual pace, so as not to draw any eyes in the prison square below. The buildings were clustered at the other end of the compound, which is why I chose that part of the wall to assault. Less chance of someone raising the alarm from the habitations. We soon came to the door. I could hear someone talking inside, which complicated things. I had only seen one guard.

As I decided what to do, Leha stepped forwards. I almost shouted at her to stop, but managed to restrain myself in time. She knocked on the door loudly, and drew her sword. The rest of us scrambled to cover her, as footsteps approached.

"Gambon, you better not be asking for more ale," said a gruff voice beyond, "You've had your ration already." Leha didn't respond, but just knocked harder. I got what she was trying to do immediately and moved to assist.

A heavy sigh rumbled from behind the door, and after some fiddling with locks, the door itself swung outwards. A man in plate armour appeared, sword sheathed and looking annoyed, his helmet off. Leha pounced, slashing her sword across the man's face. With impressive speed, no less. Unfortunately, the blow wasn't lethal. With a hiss of pain, he stumbled back into the room behind. Knowing I had seconds before he'd raise the alarm, I panicked and rushed forwards to deliver a savage kick to his knee.

He dropped to his thighs and attempted to get his sword out. It was too late. Leha turned her sword, and stabbed it downward into his collar with both hands. Withdrawing it, blood sprouted from the Templar's mouth and he dropped to the floor, very dead indeed. I grimaced at the sight. Seeing men blown apart is brutal, but there is always something primal about melee combat that shakes the mind. The dwarf wiped her blade clean on the man's clothes.

"Where did you learn to do that?" asked Tam, rather fairly I thought, "You've never expressed any interest in fighting before." Leha was supposed to be a merchant, after all. Fighting was unprofitable, as the woman herself was so fond of saying.

"I wasn't born a trader," the dwarf replied with a tinge of anger, "This sort of thing is why I became one." Also a fair statement. I became as interested in her history as much as she was with mine. I guess we were both learning each other's true nature. I pat her on the shoulder, understanding what she meant entirely. I had originally mustered out of my nation's army for a similar enough reason. Despite being smart enough for other things, I never was any good at anything else. Which is why I went back to it.

Ciara went to the door opposite, and managed to get it open with a little trouble. We continued along the wall a little more quickly, not speaking a word but all understanding that the danger that someone had heard us was greater now. Despite those fears, we made it along to the opening to the gatehouse without incident. Unfortunately, there was no door. I leaned against the wall beside to listen. There was a ruckus inside, metal moving on stone and shuffling feet.

"Who are they?" asked a voice worriedly, "And why are they here?"

"Seems to be elves, but they're not like any Dalish I've ever seen," said a female voice with far more confidence, "They definitely are waiting to attack us, they are positioned to move on the gate."

"Do they have battering rams?" the worried one continued, "Or Maker help us, ladders? Avvar or Chasind raiders I could deal with, but an army of mystery elves? This is too much."

"Calm yourself, Templar. Remember who you are," the assured one commanded, her Fereldan accent more pronounced, "Go fetch the Knight-Captain, he'll want to see this for himself."

They were speaking about my soldiers laying in wait. We had been spotted, though how we had been was a mystery. Still, with the assault troops discovered, I had to act fast. Flicking the safety off my shotgun again, I swung through the opening to the room and levelled it at the two guards. The others followed me in, bows out and in Leha's case, crossbow drawn and ready to shoot.

The two templars nearly jumped out of their skins when we appeared. The gatehouse towers were joined together at this level to create a single gallery, open to the air. The pair were wearing the same plate armour as the guard Leha had put down, and their swords were already out. I guess keeping them in their scabbards seemed like a bad idea with an army on the doorstep.

"Good evening," I growled through a smile, "The Knight-Captain doesn't need to know jack shit." To say they were taken aback was a huge exaggeration. They were utterly stupefied.

"Drop your weapons," Tam commanded.

"Or we drop you," Leha added, wiggling her crossbow slightly.

I had hoped that the worried one would surrender at the very least. He was obviously a freshly-minted Templar. He looked as young as Ciara, barely able to grow face-fuzz. Maybe he was. It didn't matter, because his female superior was clearly long in the tooth, an old hand at the wheel. The Sister would later confide that this was a survivor from Kirkwall, which probably explains the zealotry we were about to witness. The senior Templar laughed her ass off at us, like we were comedians. It pissed me right off. Then she brought her swordpoint to shoulder height and charged.

Charged at me no less, most likely because that path put me between her and Leha's crossbow. The fact that my weapon was entirely alien to her probably was a factor too, but it was far from alien to me. Her plate armour extended only to the middle of her belly, and might have protected her from a lethal hit of the buckshot if it had extended further. Except it didn't and I took aim appropriately. A bloody rose of a wound erupted from her pelvis section following the deep boom-flash of my shotgun. She tumbled to the ground yards from my feet.

The young one had followed her lead, swinging the sword about his head and screaming as he came on. Tam, Ciara, Leha and Sister Nightingale had plenty of warning. They filled him with shot. Tam's distinctive black fletched arrow pierced an eye. Ciara's white feathered arrow managed to penetrate his chestplate, her investment in better arrows not wasted. Leha's crossbow bolt followed my lead and buried itself in his gut. The Sister's more ornate arrow struck under his sword arm. The boy stopped in his tracks, but managed to stay standing for a few seconds, letting out a ghastly moan and falling backwards when his strength failed him.

Poor, unlucky kid. Who knows, maybe he had even been the son of a mage, taken from his mother in one Circle and deposited to guard another years later.

I dismissed the two as gone, having no good or bad feelings about their deaths whatsoever. They were in the way, they had the choice to get out of the way, they failed to take it. Their deaths were on their own heads. Brutal by the standards of my home, but positively generous by Thedosian morals.

"Tam, Ciara, guard the other opening," I said, tossing the only torch in the room into a bucket of water. The room went dark, some moonlight from the openings being the only illumination.

The Qunari and the Dalish slung their bows and drew their daggers, and took up a side of the doorway each. They knew the drill. The Templars in the tower opposite undoubtedly heard the noise, whether it was the shotgun blast, the shouting or the scream. A quick check of the buildings told me that the Templars eating in the large mess hall had not heard it.

I also discovered how the Templars had been able to spot our people in the forest.

"It's a telescope," I said, approaching it.

"Not for stargazing, Marquis," the Sister replied, "It's a night glass from the University of Orlais... though how one came to be here, I do not know." The Templars had friends in academic circles. I looked through the eyepiece to see what the enemy had, and sure enough, Soprano and her skirmishers could be seen in the trees in just enough detail to be noticeable. It intrigued me, and although we had work to do, my mind turned to another task.

"Leha, is this worth anything?" I asked. The dwarf looked at the piece for less than a second.

"More than a few sovereigns," she said, "Plenty of nobles like to watch wildlife at night. Or hunt." I smiled as I smelled an opportunity.

"Take it and put it in the tower we came through," I said, "No need to destroy it with the building. The rest of you, hand over your satchels." Our gambit was explosives. Powerful, remotely detonated, plastic explosives. I had brought no small amount either, knowing how to make more being the reason for my enthusiasm in using it. The formula was valuable enough for dozens of spies to have died attempting to obtain it in the years since. Good thing they don't know that more simple recipes exist, albeit more dangerous ones. The group threw the bags to me, most of them entirely unaware of what they had been carrying.

As I prepared the charges, two Templars made the bad decision of storming through from the wall on the opposite side to our entry point. They were dealt with swiftly.

Tam clotheslined the first with her curved dagger, partially decapitating the man. That was quiet. Ciara grabbed the back of the other's armour and drove her straight blade into his lower back for the kidneys. That was very far from quiet.

A blood-curdling screech, louder than anything else I had heard from a human being thus far, was the result.

My fears jumped to the front of my mind, and I was forced to over to the edge of the gallery on the inside. Sure enough, doors were opening on the large mess building and Templars wandering outside onto the flagstones to see what the fuss was. My blood rose in every part of my body. The screwing around stage had ended.

"We don't have much time," I said, "All of you go back to the other tower, now!"

No one questioned or complained. They could see the dozen Templars approaching as well, and that number seemed to be increasing. Leha picked up the night glass, and was escorted out by the others, their bows nocked and ready to draw. I knew they'd be spotted, but that they'd be safe in the next tower. Less entrances to defend over there.

I threw two satchels to the bottom of each of the gatehouse's towers, through the ladder hatches. The fifth and final charge I placed on the top of the closed portcullis. Satisfied we could make a big enough hole in the place to get in without trouble, I turned around to join the others only to find a spectacular sight.

A Templar was charging at me, and he was engulfed in flames. I scrambled backwards, as he came on, two short swords raised to stab into me. In my shock, I dove away, but managed to kick out upon landing. The man went sprawling onto the floor, still on fire.

His roars of pain and anger continued as he stood up. My own reason began to assert itself in the time I had won. How had he gotten so close without my noticing? More importantly, why in the name of God was he on fire? I asked myself these questions as I reached for my handcannon to end him. Someone beat me to it.

A lightning bolt flew from beyond the doorway and into the burning Templar, near blinding and deafening me with the light and boom in the enclosed space. I cursed to myself, blinking away afterimages of the sight through my pain. I knew who was responsible.

"Armen!" I shouted, "What the fuck are you doing here?!"

The mage entered the room, stepped over the thoroughly deceased assassin, his spear-like staff recovered from some place. No smile either. He was all business, when it came to the Rebellion. I'm not sure there is a word to describe exactly how annoyed I was.

"I wondered where the hell you had disappeared to," I said, "Don't tell me you were with us the whole time." His emotional state around this prison was bound to be entirely out of whack. I had intended to order him to stay put. He had known that, and whipped up some magical crap to make himself see-through or some crap, I suspected. I was dead on.

"Leha never struck me as the warrior type," Armen mused, "But is now really the best time to chastise me?" He flicked his head back towards the courtyard beyond the wall.

There were now dozens of Templars below, some distance off and still gathered near the mess hall, but all looking up our way. Their commander was no idiot. The walls were lost for all they knew, so they were massing their troops to retake them. It would be less than a minute before they'd be ready, I guessed. The notion of them charging from every direction wasn't what scared me. The Templars having some understanding of what I was trying to accomplish on the other hand did. The random bags laying around the bottom of the towers might have given them some indication.

"With me," I growled at Armen, "NOW!" I grabbed his robes and shoved him out onto the wall again. We began to run, and that really got the attention of the enemy. Arrows began whistling by, and the sound of shouting followed behind them. I didn't want to look back, I just kept moving Armen along with shouting and pushing.

The others appeared at the top of the tower, and began shooting back at the archers, but the arrows kept getting thicker, bouncing off the wall in front of us. I wasn't sure if I was going to make it, particularly with that plodding elf mage in front of me. He realised it too.

About half way, Armen stopped in his tracks and spun on his heels, bringing his staff up. After a quick spin to collect power, he slammed the butt of the thing onto the wall and brilliant white light poured out from it as I passed him. The arrows stopped immediately, as it directed itself at those who were throwing them our way. They curled over, trying to get out of the light, much to my amusement. We jogged the rest of the way across the wall. By the time they had all recovered and had resumed the pursuit, we through the tower door. Whatever I might say, magic is useful.

I peered through a crack in the door. They were running across the huge courtyard towards us from the far end, but they couldn't have known the danger. I felt a sort of anticipation as I watched, waiting for the shoe to drop but knowing it never would for them. I was ready when they ran by and through where we had just been.

"Fire in the hole," I said softly to myself, before depressing the radio trigger.

* * *

The explosion thudded loudly against the tower and threw stones against the door, breaking it in several places. The walls and floor shook violently, throwing Armen to his knees and sending me clinging to the wall. Composition Four's first introduction to Thedas was quite an event, to say the least. Chemistry beats rock too.

Wanting to see if the Templars had been caught by the shockwave, I knocked aside the remains of the door. I immediately began coughing, as fine dust wafted into the air like a thick fog. The explosives had pulverised part of the tower's stone and mortar into the aerosol form that stuck to everything. I needed to know if the way was open, and whether or not the Templars had been stopped. Spluttering, I donned my thermal imaging equipment.

The heat silhouettes of at least fifty men and women appeared some distance away, sprawled out on the ground either dead or badly injured. Twice as many again were picking themselves up or huddled in fear, not understanding just what had happened. Unfortunately, I couldn't tell if the gate had been breached. Considering that my soldiers had orders to advance as soon as it was, this wasn't the most encouraging development. I turned to find the others climbing down the ladder from above in a daze.

"Did any of you see if the gate is down?" I asked, not thinking about the effects.

Sister Nightingale and Leha simply stared. The former like one studies a psychopath, the latter like one seeing a ghost for the first time. I was about to snap at the pair of them. We didn't have time for either of it, and I wanted a damned answer. Luckily, Tam and Ciara were on hand and familiar with my methods, if still a little out of it.

"Too much smoke," Tam replied, "Couldn't see through."

"It would be strange if it is still standing," said Ciara, waving dust away from her, "I think some of the roof tiles are on the moons." The explosion from the satchel I left by the top level certainly would have done something like that. Not literally of course, but the gatehouse roof would have been the first thing to go. I sighed and kicked open the hatch to the ground floor. The next phase began regardless, and there was nothing for it but to continue as planned.

We climbed down the ladder and went into the courtyard. Tam and Ciara walked parallel to me with their bows ready, and Leha copied them. They paid attention to the training I had given the others, evidently. The Sister and Armen hung around behind. I think that pretty much sums up our whole relationship with the Chantry in the years to come. We do the hard fighting, they hang around in the back. Not that this was improper, Chantry goons can't fight for shit. Well, Sister Nightingale and Seeker Pentaghast could, at least.

We advanced slowly across the open space, which was littered with building debris. The dust was clearing now, which I had mixed feelings about. While I was cheered to see that the gatehouse was not only destroyed but obliterated, the Templars appeared to have recovered their wits and were gathering to attack us. I noted the time. There was still enough of it for us to get disembowelled.

"Parlay!" I shouted, "I wish to parlay!" I had no idea if it would work, but I thought it a good bet. This might strike you as absurd, but keep in mind that I had just destroyed an fortification effectively with a click of my fingers, and the living Templars had no idea about what would happen next if they delayed. My companions seemed to understand, at least. There were no queries as to why I'd give the Templars time to form ranks.

The enemy stopped about thirty or forty yards ahead of us. If I had to guess, maybe only half their strength was present and still standing. Many weren't fully armoured either, and very few had the customary plate armour on. Wearing it at dinner when the mages were safely locked away would have been impractical. Which was perfect news for us, if we'd survive the next few minutes. I let myself believe we would, simply because I didn't like the alternative.

One of them stepped forward and took off his helmet, revealing a scarred face and long hair, the torchlight increasing the visual effect of both. I could tell he had earned his rank. Not a political appointment.

"I am Knight-Captain Denam," he said, authority dripping off every word, "To whom am I speaking and by what right do you attack a fortress of the Templar Order?"

Giving away information like who I was would have been idiotic. For all I knew, someone would survive, hide and report my every word. There was no problem answering the second question though, even if the asker would not understand its answer.

"Under the articles of United Nations Resolution 2249, all peacekeepers of the UNSIFOR are to prevent genocide, crimes against humanity, and war crimes. I am allowed to use all appropriate and proportionate force to do so." Utter gibberish to practically anyone in Thedas, except for Julie. Denam treated it as such too, his face curling with anger. He seemed to fume for a whole minute or two. That was very satisfying, to say the least.

"You attack us, have your pet mage use some foul magic to blast your way in, demand to speak with us... And that is all you have to say?!" he roared, "If you could repeat that trick, you would have already. Throw down your weapons or there will be no mercy, you're outnumbered!" Touchy touchy. A quick look at my watch to make sure I wouldn't seem foolish, and I delivered the punchline.

"You know, that is funny," I said, pouring swagger into my voice as much as I could, "I was about to say the same thing to you."

Right on schedule, the sound of moving feet in the hundreds began rumbling through the air. The Templars paused their giving me the evil eye. They began looking around and at each other. All eyes turned to a new sight. You couldn't help it.

Lit up by torches, Mike stood atop the rubble of the gatehouse, our flag high and flowing to the side, caught by the breeze. 

Behind her was McNulty and Soprano, followed by their companies. The Templars rippled with panic as my troops calmly marched off the heap and formed lines in a crescent shape around them. The shields were placed down and the crossbows levelled across them. I think my own people were surprised at just how few of the Templars had been gathered. There were others standing about the place in other parts of the compound, I could see, but they were backing away from joining the bloc of their fellows. I felt triumphant.

"What is this!" Denam hollered, "What have you done!"

"Kill them until they give up," I ordered by radio, loudly enough for anyone to hear.

"Yes, Marquis," said McNulty and Soprano together.

A drum beat the advance, and a hundred crossbows strung bolts out into the Templars. The sound of the hits was disturbingly like the patter of rain on the ground, a sort of wet noise. Only about twenty of those that took one went down dead, but about half were wounded. The Templars responded in the way typical of many Thedosian military forces; an ragged, undisciplined charge, with no formation or cohesion whatsoever. My people were already switching over to swords and forming the defensive shieldwall. I didn't worry about them, they'd put the enemy to the sword with ease now that they were in the most advantageous situation. No tricks, no mages, no mercy.

A good twenty of the Templars came charging at us. With utter contempt on my face, I sent a couple of barks from my shotgun their way. Tam and Ciara added a volley of arrows for good measure, backed up immediately afterwards by Leha and the Sister. To my relief, it sent them scurrying away. Denam too, the bastard, managed to escape despite catching a crossbow bolt to the arm. They ran to join the general brawl or to the buildings, away from us. The temptation to follow and finish them off burrowed itself in my head, but I dug it out. We had more important business to attend to.

"Sister Nightingale, Where are the mages?" I said, "Our troops have this under control." Another understatement on my part. The fanaticism of the Templars was being met with cold discipline, and it was working. By now, two or even three of mine were laying into one Templar each, with swords and bolts. Soprano's skirmishers had managed to get up on the walls too, plucking arrows from their nests and putting them into those Templars that weren't as enthusiastic to close in.

"This way," the Sister said, before sprinting off towards the rock face about two hundred yards away. I ran after her as best I could, though I was much more burdened. Armen ran alongside me, his face stony and his expression utterly hardened. We ran past the edge of the buildings and to the mine entrances I had seen before. That's when we saw them.

Templars were banging batons and maces off the metal bars, trying to get the mages to back off. More interesting was how exactly they were keeping order among people who could burn them alive by thinking it. There were ripples like waves through the air, as they suppressed the magic. Not that I cared much, because there was another thing to see. Far more horrifying.

The mages were emaciated, walking bags of bones, some of them barely alive to my eye. The ones captured early were likely the worst. They huddled at the cage entrances, clinging to the bars, watching the action beyond with confusion or hope. It was hard to tell how many there were, they were packed so tightly in. Children as young as ten poked their heads out through the bars to see. Rage consumed me. I stepped forward to … deal with the guards.

Armen beat me to it. He ran at full pace, past the stunned Sister Nightingale, a bubble of fire expanding at the top of his staff with his every stride. I called out for him to stop, as did the others, but to no avail. I thought he'd incinerate the Templars, the mages, the whole side of the mountain if he didn't control himself.

The Templars themselves didn't even blink. Moving in unison for the first time, they placed the tip of their swords on the ground and chanted something unintelligible to me. In a second, the fireball winked out of existence, as if it had never been there at all. I had to blink twice to make sure what I had seen had actually happened. The Templars were no small threat to mages. Until this point, I had thought they were simply naturally resistant, like myself but less potently so. They were more resistant, of course, but they also possessed the ability to reinforce reality against manipulation by the Fade.

Armen stopped dead, almost falling over, before running back to us as the Templars chased him. It would have been comical, if it wasn't for the utter hatred in the eyes of the men and women doing the chasing. It goes almost without saying, like many of the others, I didn't have much moral qualms about cutting them down. Sister Nightingale didn't either, getting to grips with the first one using her daggers. Neck, gut, armpit, the daggers plunged into any poorly armoured part of the man. The danger her presence possessed came out into the light.

Tam hacked one to death with brutal swings of her longsword, while Leha and I dispatched two others. I shot mine in the chest, and the woman's chainmail was far from adequate enough to stop a door-breaching slug round. There was an audible crunch as her ribs cracked. I caught her right in the sternum. A real 'yeesh' moment, particularly as the last Templar threw down his sword and surrendered. I would have been tempted to in his shoes.

We all calmed down a bit at the gesture, like a switch was turned. I looked about, and seeing no other plate-armoured zealots around, I motioned for Tam and Armen to start cracking open the cages. They did so with enthusiasm with the Sister in tow, while Ciara and Leha covered our new prisoner.

"You're surrendering?" I asked, sure it was a trick to put a hidden blade into one of us.

"My death will not stop you freeing the mages," the Templar conceded, "Besides... just looking at them makes me feel sick. This is not why I joined the Order." The man's face was almost impossible to read with his helmet on, but the accent was definitely not Orlesian. I had just met my first Fereldan. Unable to make the judgment, I turned to someone I knew would have his measure.

"Sister, is he telling the truth?" I asked.

"I say we stick him in the cage and lock the door," Ciara interrupted, "Who cares if he's telling the truth!" It was an option, at least.

"He's laid down arms," Leha retorted, "Wouldn't be right." Ciara huffed in response, before meeting the Nightingale's eyes and stopping.

"He is being truthful," the Sister replied, "I think I know who he is... Templar, remove your helmet!" Her command was followed immediately, her voice being one that demanded obedience.

The Templar had a dark complexion, and honest eyes. Handsome bastard too. Defused my killing instinct completely, though I knew that wouldn't save him from Armen. However, something did occur to me. I didn't know anywhere enough about the enemy I was to fight. There was yet another opportunity here.

"You are Delrin Barris, are you not?" the Sister continued, "I have heard of your exploits. Why are you in Orlais?" He was quite famous among the nobility, apparently. Some story about defeating demons on a mountaintop. Considering I could go do that twelve times a day before breakfast, I never was very impressed with such stories. I was privileged in that respect, I guess.

"Fifty Templars from Ferelden were moved here, they thought we'd be less sympathetic to the Orlesian mages," Delrin replied, "They were mostly right." His eyes tracked to the mages now being let out of the cages. They were full of sorrow. I knew then I couldn't just kill him, even if he wasn't useful. Besides, it would have been against my oath. Executing him would have required taking off the blue beret. I ordered Ciara to watch him, as my earpiece crackled to life.

"Marquis, all enemies eliminated," Soprano reported by radio. My heart lifted slightly. Victory was ours, but what I had found made me sick. It was little wonder that Armen was so determined, and I appreciated that with a new zeal.

"How many prisoners?" I asked, "Did you get the Knight-Captain?" I would have liked to send Denam to hell personally. After a trial, of course.

"No prisoners, they attempted to regroup and attack," she replied, almost proud of the fact, "Not sure if we killed anyone of rank, Marquis. My apologies." Inevitable really, given the nature of the fight. Her cheerful tone told me that no one had died on our side, at least not yet. Thankfully, Armen was on hand for healing purposes. If he could calm down for five minutes to produce the magical effect necessary.

"That's alright, Captain, you did as I commanded," I said with a sigh, "Bring the wounded to the Templars' quarters. We'll treat them there." There was to be no shortage of medical care required, as I would learn, but no one died. Something I considered a miracle in the most literal sense of the word.

"Looks like we won," Tam commented, slapping me on the shoulder, "Didn't think we would."

"Your vote of confidence is always appreciated," I replied sarcastically, "Let's get these mages fed. Go find the larders."

 

 


	40. Common Sense I

To those reading in the distant future, or those who don't follow history, it may appear at this point that I was by far the most prominent person in our little project. This is far from true. I was and remain a great soldier, an average general with access to technology above anything in Thedas, but a terrible politician, despite having studied politics in academia. I suspect many of you have guessed this from my intention to invite the mages to L'Ambassade. It seems like such a bad move to anyone from Thedas. Perhaps that is why Sister Nightingale allowed me to proceed.

The mages' arrival marks the moment when the people who would actually decide the course of events began to assert themselves, namely Julie Marteau and Tam. If this is the Peacekeeper's Tale, they are more responsible than anyone else for enabling what I did to come to pass. The others played their part, of course. The catalyst was the mages themselves.

We spent the night in the Wolf's Lair, sleeping in the beds of the Templars we had killed. There seemed to be far more beds than Templars, incidentally, which probably said quite a bit about the situation they found themselves in. No one was much in the mood for conversation. I was tired, as was Tam. Leha was brooding over my real identity and what would happen next. Armen was sequestered with the mages, healing them and my injured soldiers. McNulty was drunk with his circle of close underlings. Soprano was silent in a corner, a frown on her face. Sister Nightingale scribbled furiously in candlelight, next to a stack of cages with the ugliest and largest black crows I had ever seen. So, I went to sleep and awoke late the next morning very refreshed.

A change of clothes from my Earth combat uniform to the new stuff from Thedas was the first order of the day. I didn't want to intimidate anyone too much, so I wore only a handcannon, my composite vest and my beret over them. I had slept in the Commander's quarters, and had a small search of it. Plenty of documents, none of which I could read well, and a small chest of money. I tucked the latter under my arm and left the room for the mess hall in good spirits.

Gold is a strange thing. I had never seen much of it before on Earth, our currencies aren't made of gold anymore, but by this point I began to understand why they used to be. I decided to share the good spirits.

I weaved through the buildings, some with tired looking soldiers in their doorways. Much of the night had been spent moving Templar bodies and collecting weapons. We hadn't burned them yet, simply piled them in the mines and locked the gates. The drinking started soon after that, along with bathing. The party atmosphere even spread to the mages, who proceeded to eat up as much of the Templars' food as possible. Nothing quite like seeing twelve year olds drinking ale. In retrospect, that such a thing happened at all was a testament to the faith put in me by my fighting men and women. Their accommodation of the mages was stunningly fast. Not everyone would be as tolerant in the days to come.

So, with a good night's rest behind me, a victory under my belt that had cost me no lives, a full belly and a warm atmosphere, who better to dampen my mood than Sister Nightingale?

I turned a corner and into view of the mess hall entrance, and found her staking out the place with three mages. Two humans and one elf. Not wanting to deal with the Chantry spy without backup from Tam or Ciara, I prepared to about face and escape. However, I spotted the other member of their party. Delrin Barris. Who should have been under armed guard in a cellar, but the Templar was inexplicably without escort and his hands weren't tied. I called for Tam over the radio.

"Marquis, a moment of your time," the Sister said, as she paced towards me intently. Wanting to groan inwardly, I simply put on my best interested face and tried not to be short with her in light of her breaking a prisoner out.

"Certainly, Sister Nightingale," I replied with no small degree of false politeness, which had the dignifying effect of taking her aback. Hilarious.

"I thought you would like to meet the leadership of the mages, and talk over their decision," the Sister replied, suppressing any retort with complete ease, "The senior enchanters talked throughout the night on the subject."

This confused me. "Their decision? I thought we had already made the decision," I said, "The mages aren't going with you and that's final. This better not be why the Templar is out of his chains." My eyes flickered to the man in question for a moment. He seemed unperturbed that I wanted him detained.

"Whether or not we go with you is not your choice to make, Marquis," said the eldest of the mages. She had a strange accent, familiar enough to me as one from a country on Earth. Her words were not pleasing to me however, however familiar an accent they were said in.

"It seems to me like it is," I retorted, advancing towards them, "Without me, you'd be rotting in that cage or dead, and I can't give you leave to go elsewhere as you might spread word of my capabilities." The ones they knew about, anyway. I needed the mages to back me up when the Templars or anyone else came knocking, as they almost certainly would now. The mages themselves clearly needed protection too. Their complete lack of grace after being rescued was infuriating.

The Sister stepped forwards between us.

"Perhaps we have gotten off on the wrong foot," she said in a conciliatory tone, "They do not intend to bring harm to you. A round of introductions is in order." Her eyes locked with mine, pleading with me. Defused entirely, I blew an exasperated sigh out of my lips and backed off a step. Bloody Orlesian bards.

"Marquis, may I present Velarana of the Aequitarians, Adam Valle of the Lucrosians and Valeria Marable of the Isolationists," the Sister said, "Enchanters, this Samuel Hunt, Marquis de la Fayette and Peacekeeper of the United Nations." Velarana was a relatively young elf woman with short blonde hair and sharp eyes. She struck me as too smart by half. Valle was a middle-aged man with brown hair and beard with grey highlights. An insurance salesman was what came to mind when I examined him... not that it means anything here. Valeria Marable was a woman in her sixties, with soft eyes, though she had already demonstrated that she had a sharp tongue. All three wore the robes of the Circle, with differences in colour and jewelry between them but the common themes were obvious.

Annoyed that she had let a hint of my true identity into my titles, I gave them a curt nod. Until I realised there was someone missing. Armen had not skimped on details where the Circles were concerned.

"Where is the leader of the Libertarians?" I asked, "Dead?"

"There are only a hundred mages affiliated with that fraternity here," Marable said with a sniff of disapproval, "Their senior enchanter was killed during the Sundering. They have already voted to appoint your man as their leader. He is a hero to them." My man meaning Armen. I smiled at that. He was wise far beyond his years, if a little impetuous. Goes to show that book-learning isn't wasted on everyone.

"As if his ego needed more of a boost," I said, "Well, now that we are introduced, care to explain why we're changing the plan, Sister?"

"It is simply a modification, Marquis," the Nightingale replied with a wave of her hand, "The isolationists do not wish to join you, nor will they return to the Circles." That got my curiosity up. What did they intend to do, hide in the forest? Apparently not.

"Why?" I asked, "Surely it would be better to come with me, or at least attempt to beg mercy from the church?" Eyebrows raised at the last word, as it was foreign to the world, but the meaning was understood. I turned to the mages themselves for the answer.

"We cannot return to the Circle, the Templars would not allow us," Marable stated, "We cannot go with you either."

"Am I that offensive?" I asked in jest, "Or does my breath smell?" It seemed like they were being unreasonable to me.

"Can you guarantee that we won't be forced to fight?" asked Marable, leaning on her plain staff.

I began to understand why her faction was called isolationist. They were pacifists who only wanted to be left alone, not just disinterested in the debate over mage freedom. "No," I conceded, "In fact, I can guarantee you will have to fight if you come with me."

"Then we shall stay here," Marable continued, "We will rebuild the gate and live here, where we won't bother anyone or be bothered by anyone. Four hundred of us and the children will stay." She was adamant that it would be the case. Displeased at the development, I did consider attempting to appeal directly to the mages under her. I remain sure to this day that I could have convinced many of them to come too. However, to bring the children did seem like a poor choice. There would be hard fighting to come in the spring.

"I understand," I said at last, "I will send supplies to get you through the winter." No point leaving them entirely alone to starve in the snows. I couldn't let myself do it anyway, starving children to spite pacifists.

Marable was taken aback, as were the others. Kindness to mages in this era was, after all, a rarity. I do believe I even managed to surprise the Nightingale, if only because she was a radical on the subject of mage freedom herself. Though I wasn't acting only out of kindness.

"That is very generous," the Sister said, "You don't need to."

"On the contrary," I replied immediately, "I do need to."

I held out my hand for Marable to shake, and the Isolationist took it gently. I smiled warmly at her, and got one in return. I stepped aside as she left the rest of us, probably to deliver the news to her people. At least I wouldn't have the children to worry about. I had doubts later, about the Templars coming back, but the Sister assured me that they wouldn't even bother coming back to the prison. They had started executing anyone who didn't comply immediately. They had too much else to worry about, including me.

"At least you two will be coming," I said as I returned my attention to the other leaders, "Or have I got the wrong impression?"

"No, we'll join you," said Velarana with a frown, "It seems that we are rebels now whether we like it or not." Truer words were never spoken. This made the second prison they had broken out of.

"We Lucrosians are not fighters by nature," Valle added rather pompously, "However, the Templars will not allow us to conduct our business any longer. We require protection in numbers."

Necessity was a good start to any relationship in my view, so I offered my hand to them as well. I got a reluctant shake from Valle, but a warm one from Velarana coupled with a smile. I was pleased to see that their opinions were so transparent, though I figured that it was likely they had no experience dissembling in the first place. Circle mages weren't exactly conversing regularly with the man on the street at this point in history.

Tam arrived just as we finished the gesture, looked around for less than a second, before grabbing Knight-Templar Barris by the scruff of his neck. Valle flinched and stepped back a couple of paces, while Velarana watched with a frown.

"What are you doing out of your cage?" Tam asked him, bringing up her dagger to wave in front of his face.

"Tam, ease off," I said softly, "He's no threat." Not sure what reaction I would get out of the mages, I decided that having Tam open his throat wasn't the most productive. The Sister evidently agreed.

"That is another matter we need to discuss," the Sister said in a soothing tone, before turning into a more commanding one, "The Templar will be going with you."

That pissed me off, and I turned to her quickly with a hard grimace on my face.

"Yeah lady, that was sorta the plan," I said flippantly, "He's going to answer for his part in this." I had the plan all laid out. Trial, sentencing, punishment, in that order. After I had him pumped for information, since he seemed at least a little sorry for all of it.

Sister Nightingale did not appreciate my flippancy one iota. When she spoke next, her tone was dripping with malice, her eyes sharper than before, and her posture hostile.

"He is going with you to help protect your people against the mages," she said, "To give them the confidence they need to accept their presence. Not to be executed at your whim."

"He's complicit with crimes against humanity," I replied coolly, "Nor are you in a position to give me orders." Her presumption had finally broken my patience. One person, however skilled, against my army or even myself alone was likely a dead one walking. I was getting the wrong end of the stick though.

"The Divine will need some sign that you are not an enemy of the Chantry," the Sister said, "If she does not receive word that you are willing to cooperate, she will direct the Seekers and the Templars to make you with force. Perhaps even with the help of Orlais. I have already sent word of your... abilities. You may be able to destroy armies, but you cannot destroy the Chantry or the Empire alone." All of which was true or likely to be true.

My calculations in my head against her assertions came up short, but my anger at her did not subside much. To be ordered around by the Divine in such a way was frustrating, though given that I had just been used in the greater conflict between the Templars, the Divine and the rebel mages, it is hardly surprising. Justinia was just some far off figure with power and no regard for the common person to me. How wrong I was.

"Can I speak?" Barris asked, standing up and shrugging off Tam's hand, though her dagger remained ready.

"Depends what you're going to say," I replied, crossing my arms.

"What we did here was wrong," the Templar said, "But I was only acting under orders. I would have been expelled from the Order or worse if I had defied the Knight-Captain." Nice try, but no joy. 'Acting under orders' was a line older than I was.

"The Nuremburg defence won't buy you any time from me," I snarled back, "More men than you know have hid behind the 'I was just following orders' line." I won't get into the crimes of the Nazis here, I have put that to paper elsewhere, most notably in _An Incomplete History of Earth_ , but rounding up people you don't like and abusing them does feature on the list. The Templars weren't quite at the same level. Yet. They hadn't graduated to outright genocide.

"Denam was a fanatic," the Sister interjected, attempting to placate me, "He's among the most zealous of the Knight-Captains." I didn't feel that was relevant. I just kept remembering my first sight of the mages behind the metal bars from the night before. My good mood had been utterly ruined as a result, as you can probably guess.

Tam sighed loudly, drawing the attention of us all. She stood up straight and away from Barris, and sheathed her dagger. "Sam, we should not fight the _bas_ Chantry," she said softly, "We have enough enemies. Even the Qun recognises when compromises must be made. Let the Templar come with us as a free man."

"Why?" I asked, "We're already in trouble with the Empire and your own people, why not add the Chantry to the list?"

"They're not my people any more," Tam responded, "You and Julie are, and I do not wish to see you harmed." A strange thing to say, considering that the three of us were the least likely to be harmed before we could either escape or kill an aggressor.

"I thought you were confident we could survive," I said, "What's changed?"

"Against almost anyone else, I am," Tam replied, before pointing at the Sister, "But against her? I think we'd lose."

I was intrigued. Nightingale was almost certainly the most dangerous person I had come across on Thedas so far, but not to the extent that I would have worried. My weapons and combat training were certainly better. There are more ways than I know to fight, however. I looked to the Sister, who was maintaining a neutral visage in the midst of the mages' confusion. Nothing to be read there.

"I could shoot her to pieces right now," I said, making sure to indicate via my tone that it wasn't my intention to do so, "She'd be unable to stop me."

Tam looked over the Sister again before speaking, as if working something out in her head. Finally, she nodded to herself.

"Her real name is Leliana," the Qunari said, "This is the Orlesian bard that travelled with the Hero of Ferelden during the Blight. The one the Arishok likes to talk about. I would guess that she has already sent a message to her Chantry, with orders to rally the Templars and the Empire to attack us together if she does not return alive."

Which would have screwed us entirely. We could take on any power individually, as they were bound to underestimate us, but getting tag teamed by two or more influential groups with a full understanding of my capabilities simply wasn't going to work. I recognised the danger immediately, albeit with a great deal of frustration. My urge to blast holes in the Sister increased, but my head won over my heart. I clicked my tongue in my dissonance, but kept my audible complaints to that alone. I turned to the woman in question one last time. She had a small smile on.

"Well then, _Leliana_ ," I said, "I guess I have no choice."

"No, you do not," Leliana replied with a small bow, " _Sam_."

That was the end of the high dissatisfying conversation.

 


	41. Common Sense II

We left the Wolf's Lair the next day, our numbers boosted by six hundred mages and fifty "Tranquil", all of whom I was very glad to have join us. Of course, only the hundred Libertarian mages could actually be counted on to be able to fight, but as I have said elsewhere, direct use of such valuable individuals on the battlefield was a waste. Not that we could afford to dismiss their help in that regard at that time. With us went a couple of dozen more horses, several more chests of valuables, the nightscope we had recovered from the gatehouse, and two thirds of the supply of the magical substance lyrium the Templars had stashed in wagons.

We had cunningly disguised the mages in less conspicuous clothing for the journey, some of them even donning Templar chainmail. We stripped out the armoury too, and now had the means to equip another two hundred soldiers when we got back. Which we did. Overall, I was extremely pleased by the haul. So much so that my festive mood returned as I watched the long line of wagons moving.

The trip was slow going, as we couldn't maintain a military pace with so many of the mages being greatly weakened by their experience over the last few months. Hiding out in the wilderness and then being tossed into a cave without much food doesn't exactly put weight on the bone. Some of them were entirely unable to walk for more than fifteen minutes, and the worst cases were put on the wagons. I sent riders ahead to inform everyone back home that we were on the way, so that preparations could be made.

Leliana left us near the end of our march to return to Val Royeaux to report to her superiors, riding with the columns. I had some brief talks with her on the subject of the Blight, and got a little more information about the Hero of Ferelden. The answers about Morrigan intrigued me the most though. The Sister thoroughly disapproved of her methods, but seemed to respect her in a strange sort of way. I wasn't getting the full story there no matter how much I pressed, and I knew it, so most of the conversation was about technical details. Blight sickness, darkspawn numbers, the nature of their taint, and the response of the various nations at the time. It would be useful later.

We finally returned a few days later than expected, marching up the avenue of trees with a sprinkling of snow falling, presaging the amount we'd get in the weeks to come. I was in front with Tam and Ciara, Armen and Leha were a good bit behind in the middle of the formation with the rest of the wagons. Soprano was on hand nearby too with Mike, ready to deliver orders at a word. I wanted to be the first to see what was going on and have the ability to react immediately, to make sure our home was still in our hands.

Waiting for us were four figures on horseback, alongside the squad I had left to protect L'Ambassade.

One of the figures was Julie, though it was hard to tell at first because she was wearing her deep blue half-mask with red and white highlights that weren't easy to see from afar, her figure also being covered by her fur coat. I could understand the latter, all the others were wearing them, but I couldn't comprehend the former until we got closer. The Baron was in the middle, a striking a figure as ever in his red mask and blue heraldry atop his large horse. Even from a distance I could tell he wasn't pleased, and the reason why was obvious. Revered Mother Brandon was out in front of him on her more modest pony. You would think that she would have sent my stomach reeling in panic, being as I was arriving with hundreds of supposedly apostate mages. You would be right too. She was the object of my attentions right until we got into proper earshot.

The fourth figure was familiar to me in the worst way possible; Cécile des Arbes, my prosecutor at the mockery of a trial I was subjected to at Halamshiral. Red masked aristocratic contempt and all. It looked like the jig was up for me, though doubts began niggling in my mind when I completed failed to see hundreds of Orlesian Army soldiers waiting to arrest me. In fact, I couldn't even see any of the Baron's usual guards. Despite this, I felt that caution was the better part of valour.

"Tam, get your sword out," I said quietly as we approached. She complied immediately, though not without a curious look. She gave the blade a wide swing before bringing it to rest across the front of her saddle, likely to insure those ahead of us saw it. Ciara joined her by taking her bow off her back and nocking an arrow. The cleric displayed some concern with the gestures at least, which lifted my spirits.

Julie had Revas trot around the woman and came up to us with a smile, and an infectious one at that. I was grinning like an idiot as she took off her mask. She leaned over to give Tam a hug and a kiss, before leading her horse around to do the same to me. I felt immensely relieved. Not only because it was a sign that things were okay, but also because I had survived to see her again. I have no doubts Tam felt the same way.

"It's good to see you all," said Julie, giving Ciara a hug, "We were expecting you yesterday."

"The mages slowed us down," the Dalish girl replied, "What's going on?"

"Things have developed since you were away," Julie said, "We were almost in trouble there for a moment." There was no difficulty in seeing why.

"I am sure you pulled us out of the fire just in time," Tam smiled, "I don't see any army to subdue us."

"Just the Baroness I'm afraid," replied Julie flippantly, looking at me, "She thinks you're a murderer."

"I know," I replied, "Is that going to be a problem?" I already knew it wouldn't be.

"She's not happy about something else now," Julie responded, putting her half-mask back on, "Come on, they're waiting."

We followed Julie on horseback towards the Baron, but were intercepted by Mother Brandon about half way. I already had a plan for dealing with her objections, but it didn't make me think of her as less of a nuisance. My jaw clenched shut as she began speaking, so as to avoid saying anything untoward. I waved the column to continue to unpack the wagons behind the château, while I spoke with the cleric.

"Marquis, is it true that you have come back with apostates?" she said, "There have been the most fantastic rumours." That amused me. I often wonder if I could have avoided trouble by simply living up to the rumours as opposed to denying them. Better to be feared than loved, as both Julie and an old Florentine would say.

"My soldiers are fine, by the way," I said, ignoring her point and not-so-subtly pointing out her failure to inquire about their well-being, "No casualties, just a few new scars." To her credit, the Revered Mother was taken aback.

"My apologies, Marquis," Brandon said quickly, "I did not mean to ignore the plight of your fighting men and women." She seemed sincere, and so I decided to quit stalling. She didn't know any better than what she was taught, after all. Perhaps she was worried that word would spread of her ignoring her flock's spiritual needs, but I relaxed a little regardless.

"Six hundred mages of the Aequitarian, Lucrosian and Libertarian factions are now under my protection and supervision, along with fifty Tranquils," I said, "I hope you will help me integrate them into our community." Translation: I expect you to stand aside and do your job without meddling. I was getting more used to the formal Orlesian language, as you can probably see. The Mother was having none of it.

"Marquis, as much as it would please me to do so, the Chantry's position is clear, magic must serve man," Brandon replied, "Not to mention that due to the events in Kirkwall, almost everyone is afraid of the creatures." That set me off.

"Maybe they would find it easier to serve man if preachers did not lock them away like slaves," I retorted angrily in Common, "Or call them creatures rather than people." I nudged Bellona with my heels to ride off. The Mother shouted after me, but I kept going.

It was almost a relief to see the Baron, though the dark cloud created by the presence of Cécile was still there. I saluted the man in the manner of my homeland, and now the manner of the Army, before taking off my helmet.

"We had a complete victory over the Templars," I said to the group, "Sorry for not telling you before, but I had to act fast. I will explain the details in a more... private setting. I hope you understand."

The Baron remained unchanged from his less than friendly standing, but I could not tell if it was now directed at me. A simple nod to acknowledge what I said was all I got out of him on the subject. I'm sure he would have liked to hear the tale, but that would have meant delaying something else.

"There is another matter..." he began reluctantly.

"Tell me, _Marquis_ ," the Baroness interrupted loudly, "Are you Clint Eastwood or Samuel Hunt? Or are you just a liar?" I almost had to take a breath. She was angry, as angry as I was with the Revered Mother a minute earlier, and the anger was not directed entirely at me. I felt sorry for the Baron, as I had put him in this position. Albeit unknowingly.

"Lord Samuel Hunt, Marquis de la Fayette," I said, smoothing over the problem as best I could, "That is my true title." It wasn't when I had met her, but it would be forever more. She didn't need to know that detail though.

"You stood accused of murder," the Baroness said, "I should have you arrested and dragged in chains back to Halamshiral." Hilarious idea.

"Then I'll be glad to present my agreement with the Baron," I replied flatly, "I wonder how the court will look upon nobles who make common cause with murderers." Not well, if the noise the Baroness made in response was any indication.

"We can have the chevaliers kill you," she continued, "There would be no charges against us if we did so." The switching over to the use of the collective 'we' from 'I' was poor attempt to solicit support from the Baron, and one that was made completely pointless by the colossal moan that he let out in response. Julie and Ciara practically laughed at the notion, but managed to suppress outright giggles with varying degrees of success. Even I thought it was pretty funny.

Tam was far less amused. She pointed her longsword at the Baroness. "No chevalier will pass these gates without permission and live," she growled through her wicked smile, "Try it." The Baroness returned an icy stare, which didn't bother Tam in the slightest. Yeesh. Not exactly what I would have planned had the eventuality come to pass, but it was effective.

The Baron rolled his eyes, a gesture still visible through his mask, and stopped the nonsense immediately. "Right, that's enough," he said, to both Tam and the Baroness, "There will be no disruption of the peace. Cécile, you are too stubborn, let it go." I have to admit I was with him on this.

"Why should I?" replied the Baroness, "We are risking everything by having him here." Which was very true, though not for the reasons she was assuming or for ones that any of us yet knew.

"Marquis, I came to thank you for recovering our gold and silver from the collectors. You have abided by the terms of our pact with honour," the Baron said, "And to discuss this... mage situation before I depart to Halamshiral for the winter." He handed over a roll of documents, which I presumed were instructions of what to do while he was away. I would have opened them up then and there, as I wasn't sure what he expected of me. If it wasn't for the presence of one particular annoyance.

"The mages cannot stay!" Mother Brandon declared, "They are too dangerous. We have no Templars should they summon demons!" She neglected to mention why the hell they would start summoning demons in the first place. The mages weren't going to do anything that foolish, they weren't anywhere near that desperate. Not to mention that most of them were of the moderate factions that looked upon that sort of thing as a huge betrayal of everything they stood for.

However, I looked around and saw agreement with what she was saying, at least on some level. The Baron and Baroness were both looking to my for a rebuttal. I didn't really care about their opinion, they could do nothing against me and the Baron knew it even if the Baroness didn't. No, it was Julie and Tam who made me do something stupid. They had long shared fears about mages, reflective of the general mood of the population. They were torn between their loyalty to me and the possibilities of something going wrong. I could deflect the attack of one mage, but what could I do about hundreds.

Just then, Armen and Leha were passing by on our old wagon. It gave me the idea for the demonstration that would provide my first real measure of fame.

I called them over, and turned to the group assembled.

"You'll want to dismount," I said, "The horses might get scared." Everyone complied, and the stable boys took the horses away to the stables at the other side of the compound. Armen and Leha walked through the light coating of snow, dodging the next platoon of troops marching along before resuming a more casual pace. Both looked curiously at me.

"What is this?" Leha asked flatly with a wave of her hand, "A party."

"Something like that," I chuckled, "Armen, assemble the mages on the parade ground facing away from the buildings. Those most capable of fighting go front and centre. Bring out the Templar too, he should find this entertaining."

The mage raised an eyebrow, but grinned in the way that he does before nodding. He wandered off, speaking into the mouthpiece of his radio. I waved for the others to follow me, as the wagons went by.

It took about fifteen minutes before the mages were gathered. Soprano, having heard the order from a distance, had also got her skirmishers together, presumably for the protection of our little town. Many of the ordinary citizenry were turning out as well, as word spread that the mages had arrived. The gawking had begun in earnest. Delrin Barris watched too, away from much notice as he had been stripped of his Templar garb for the trip. All of which would play into my hands.

"Revered Mother, I'll prove to you that the mages are no threat," I said, "And to everyone else." The cleric narrowed her eyes, but said nothing. She watched, as I wanted.

"Marquis, what do you intend?" the Baron asked, glancing around at the gathering crowds, "To have them swear an oath of allegiance?" How typical of the thinking of a noble. Just like with my 'vassals', I would eventually speak to each of them individually to place them in the best occupation for their talents. That was for later, though.

"Better," I replied, "All of you, stay here." I marched out into the wide plaza in front of the mages, about a hundred yards away directly ahead of them.

"Sam, what are you doing," Julie asked over the radio, "Come back." She had realised what I was going to do.

"Can't, sorry," I replied, "They need to see this, and I need to know."

Armen moved out of the mass of mages, Velarana with him. He put up his hands, indicating that he had done what I had asked and wondering what was next. I gave him a thumbs up, before taking my kite shield into my left hand and my handcannon in my right. Finally, I tossed aside the warm riding cloak that had been around me, revealing my Earth-panoply. Lastly, remembering how blinding Fade-lightning could be, I put on my sunglasses. I was ready.

"Tell the mages to kill me," I shouted, "With everything they have."

A wave of consternation rippled through the mages first, before infecting the civilians. Even the soldiers seemed disturbed, although less so given that some of them had seen me deflect lightning with no effort. Chattering and mumbling rumbled through the cold air. Yet no one moved to attack, to my annoyance.

"Do it!" I roared, "That's an order!"

Velarana stepped forwards, ignoring Armen's private words.

"Are you testing us?!" she shouted back, "We would never attack someone who was not our enemy!" The Aequitarian's grasp of public relations was sublime, apparently. Her declaration sent reassured whispers through the civilians, an unexpected bonus to what I had planned. I had forgotten entirely that the mages were not a military force. They were entirely unused to taking orders, never mind ones that instructed them to attack their liberator. Almost none of them had ever killed before.

"The test isn't for you!" I boomed, "Now attack me!" I raised my handcannon towards her, making sure that the safety was on. She knew what it was. So did the crowd. Still she did not attack. Thankfully, she didn't need to.

A young human mage behind, with a shaved head, finally cracked. To this day, I don't know why he decided to act, and I only ever spoke to him once. He spun his staff, before clenching it in his hands, and a flurry of white ice bolts sprang from the top in formation. They sailed towards me, and I knew already that they would not harm me. However, the dam had broken.

The front ranks erupted in spellwork, before the first volley had even hit me. All manner of dangers flew at me, but were deflected. Lightning bolts bounced off of me harmlessly. Great spikes of ice disintegrated into water as they approached me, soaking me to the skin. Fireballs the size of basketballs flew at me by the handful, only to dissipate on contact. It was like being punched lightly but repeatedly, as the physical force of some of the attacks did not stop until impact. It was extremely uncomfortable, but very far from lethal. Most spells kill with effect rather than force, and their force was greatly diminished by my immunity too.

Someone even summoned what could only have been a meteorite from the sky. A green flash announced its arrival, a disturbingly familiar sight. I raised my shield immediately, expecting a demon, as I had no idea whether or not my immunity would defend me from the claws of such a beast. I need not have worried. The Fade-rock split into pieces on impact, the remains bouncing away to either side of me until it collided with the perimeter fence. That was the showstopper.

The tingling of the lightning stopped, replaced with the beginnings of shivering. The cold replaced the heat of the firebolts, and evaporating of the water from the icebolts ceased as a result. I peeked over the top of my shield, and then let that arm fall to my side. What I saw was almost comical.

Every mage looked like they had just watched a Pride demon sing _Happy Birthday Mister President_. Or more accurately, as if Andraste herself had. Mouths agape, staffs lowered, shoulders slouched, eyes wide. The crowds were in a similar state of shock. Hard to blame them. Not even the most capable Templar in Thedas could have withstood such a concentrated assault. Later of course, I realised upon analysing what had happened that my immunity did have its limits. That I felt anything at all from the spells was testament to that. However, to these men and women, I was something entirely unique. Or so we all thought.

I wasn't sure if Velarana had joined in the initial attack, but she looked at me with a new interest now.

As I was about to speak, she materialised a sword in her hand and leapt forwards into a Fade step, a magically assisted sprint that left a trail of ice behind her. Before I could react, she was within swinging distance, and swing she did. The magical blade struck me below the neck at the collar bone. It shattered, but not before delivering a blow akin to a bamboo cane.

I shuddered backwards with the pain, and rallied forwards in a fit of anger. I knocked the elf mage on her ass with a swipe of my shield, and levelled my handcannon at her. She looked positively terrified, and clambered backwards a little. Realising I had done what I needed to and feeling guilty for losing control for a moment, I holstered my weapon and offered my hand.

To my relief, she took it, and I helped her get up. She smiled, God help me.

The others approached, practically running. The crowd moved in as well, with shouts and cheers, but were restrained by Soprano's soldiers. Full credit to her reaction times. And so, Julie and Tam were first to reach me.

"How did you know that was going to work?" Tam asked, grabbing me to make sure I was okay.

"You could have died, you idiot!" Julie added, before bringing both Tam and I into a hug. I held them both close for a moment, glad I was still in one piece. It had been a massive gamble, and admitting this in writing now will have probably earned me a punch by the time you have read this. The pairs of green and violet eyes coolly pinpointed me, waiting for a response. I knew I had better make it good.

"The Revered Mother needed to see it," I replied, as the woman in question came nearer, the Baron and Baroness behind her.

"Indeed," said Velarana, "I doubt anyone could object now, after seeing you go through that. You have a gift." I thanked her in my head, for making the point for me. Julie and Tam conceded, as happy I was safe as I was.

"I wonder what the dear Mother Brandon will say," Armen declared, patting me on the shoulder, "It should be interesting."

In truth, her reaction was utterly exhausting and utterly unexpected.

The cleric approached, and called for silence, holding up her hands. She got it with alarming quickness. She budged Armen and Velarana over, slapping the former's hand when he tried to object. The crowd could see me clearly. She turned to me quickly.

"Marquis, you have my deepest apologies," she said, "I was wrong about you. There is only one thing left to do now." I had not a clue what she was talking about.

She stepped back, and looked to the crowd.

"The magic touched him, but he still stands! It is a sign from the Maker!" Brandon declared, her fiery preaching unleashed, "He has sent this man to protect us from the evils of the Fade! He has gathered these loyal mages for our protection!"

The crowd roared in agreement. Some of my soldiers joined in. Uh oh, I thought.

"He shall be the bane of demons and apostates alike!" Brandon continued, "Long live the Peacekeeper! Long live La Fayette!" She returned to my side, and went down on one knee.

"Long live the Peacekeeper!" the crowd shouted, "Long live La Fayette!" The chant repeated. The civilians followed their spiritual leader's example, taking a knee. Clenched fists swung upwards with every verse.

You really have to respect Mother Brandon for this. She was a wily one, to say the least. Where most preachers would have turned the mob onto me, in fear of being displaced, she knew that this was folly. I had soldiers and could have killed her with complete ease. I do not know whether it was deliberate or a complete fluke, but by aligning her cause with mine, she reinforced her position in our community. Needless to say, she remained as tedious as ever despite now supporting me. The fervour does that to people.

That doubt sprung to my mind immediately, but there was nothing I could do to reverse what she had done. Nor did I want to. She had done me a massive favour. She had legitimised me in the eyes of the believers.

I could not help but smile and wave, believing that things would at least be easier with the population's doubts erased. Perhaps it would have been under different circumstances. I wasn't counting on Julie.

 


	42. Common Sense III

As I have stated previously, the public admiration I would receive was to pale in comparison to that of Julie Marteau.

Of course, I would remain famous and infamous for my immunity to magic, and Tam would soon be my equal, a figure of discussion and gossip as a Qunari prominent in a community that largely wasn't. One might wonder how this all came about. The beginning of it undoubtedly was the aftermath of the Battle of the Wolf's Lair, as my little demonstration began to be called.

The Baron and Baroness left for Halamshiral, to their quarters near the Winter Palace. Court life beckoned, as it did for most of the nobility in the Dales who wished to participate in the Great Game. Attendance in the Winter Palace in winter was compulsory for nobles of baron-rank and above, and it had been for centuries. Winter time is the traditional time to plot against the Crown, and the Crown took appropriate measures. Privacy wasn't a right in the Empire of Orlais.

The Baron's task for me was twofold; protect his land with my troops, and raise new levies. He hinted at the possibility of future conflict, quite subtly referring to the clash between the Empress and the Grand-Duke as well as the tax situation. Had I known what his contingency plan was, perhaps I would have shot him. Alas, I didn't, so I set about doing as he commanded. It fit with my own oath and role anyway.

The next two weeks were very busy.

Word came from Leliana from the north that she had successfully made contact with the Divine, and that her actions had been approved. Which was a great relief to me, as you can imagine.

With that worry off of my shoulders, I began to organise food distribution for some of the villages we knew would suffer later in winter, to head off any ideas about revolts or food riots. We had to modify some of the wagons with sled-skids, as the snow began to build up, but our people made it through easily enough. Julie often led those missions, for reasons you will discover.

The first new levies gathered from the estates of the Baron's vassal chevaliers arrived a week later, a good thousand men and women. I merged the best two hundred into my existing troops, offering them contracts as I had with everyone else. The Baron, perhaps knowing my ideas, sent elves as well as humans. Using the horses we had captured from White Mask and the Templars, I had a hundred of my sharpest new recruits start training as lancers, while rotating all of my little army through horsemanship so they could be moved quickly once we bought more horses in the spring. The other eight hundred or so levies I had trained as pike and sword men, using the old methods from Earth empires, Macedonia and Rome. I had learned that the Orlesians used heavy cavalry, and had no desire to be unprepared for that.

We had to house many of these new people too, and so our forest got a little more thin as I put mages and carpenters to work on building yet more houses and facilities for the newcomers. Both mage and non-mage. Most of the former signed on as workers too, though those calling themselves 'knight-enchanters' preferred to sign up for the military side of things without being asked. I let that slide. I was sure most of them would be useful in the role anyway, and had them train in non-magical combat techniques with the new recruits. They didn't appreciate that much, but they did it anyway. Defying the guy who could slap them on the head after walking through their spells wasn't likely to be considered an option.

All of this was made easier by Revered Mother Brandon, whose sermons concerning me went from hostile to supportive in the space of a day. Tam helped immensely too, fielding questions about me with exceptional patience, and there were no shortage of those. The rumour that I was from another world had gotten out just as the news of my Fade immunity was spreading. This ironically played entirely into the hands of those who believed my presence was divine intervention. It also was most likely the reason for the events of Christmas, but those will be recounted in the next chapter.

I discovered Julie's first moves towards her destiny as Satinalia approached. That's the Thedosian equivalent of Christmas to us Earthlings, at least in Orlais. Though it's in November. It's closer to an open brothel party in some parts of the Free Marches, but I digress. Building work and food convoys were still ongoing as we came up on the date, and that brought its own trouble.

Leha and I were finally having that discussion about my origins, as I had finally heard that my 'other' secret was making the rounds. I don't remember many of the details, but it started off with my complaining to her about it and eventually ended up on the subject of the picture book we had somewhere. I took Leha to the library in the château to look for it. We searched, but didn't find it.

"It doesn't seem to be here," I frowned, rifling through the large lockbox that we kept the books in, "Some other stuff seems to be missing too." It seemed more empty than usual.

Leha put herself against the wall and crossed her arms, watching me search. She had been quite enthusiastic about seeing the proof. She was not appreciating the delay.

"Maybe Julie or the big one knows where it went," she said. That jogged my memory, for no particular reason.

"Ah, Armen had it," I said, recalling that he had ripped out a page and brought it with him weeks earlier, "Maybe it's in his lab."

We left the library and jogged down the staircase, before exiting into the inner square of the château. Ciara was there, tending to some winter flowers that she had planted on our return. They were blooming a brilliant purple, and I interrupted our search to compliment her.

"Those look damn good," I said, after greeting her, "You're a talented gardener." She knew what grew in winter, at any rate.

Ciara nodded knowingly.

"My mother was the clan herbalist," she replied, "She would often plant seeds on our routes, not just for medicines but simply to brighten our way when we knew we would return by some path or another." The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, apparently. This was one of the few times that she ever spoke about her family. Of course, I had to go ruin it.

"I'm sure she'd be proud of you," I said, "You know where Armen is? I'm looking for the picture book, to show Leha." The dwarf was inspecting one of the flowers a little roughly, and I nudged her to stop. I got a glare for my trouble, which almost stopped me from seeing the suspect look on Ciara's face.

"Umm, I'm not sure exactly," Ciara replied sheepishly, "Maybe down by the residencies?" That was in the exact other end of our estate to Armen's labs, and the way she said it made me highly suspicious.

"Ciara," I said, a little more forcefully, "Where is Armen?"

"I don't know," she replied defiantly.

Leha hmmed to herself, before indicating to me to follow. Ciara let out an 'ah', and put her hand up as if to stop us, but it didn't work. The dwarf led me out of the château and towards Armen's lab. The chimney was smoking, so someone was in there I thought.

Leha opened the sliding doors to reveal pretty much the same scene that was always to be found there. Equipment and chemical jars everywhere. However, one thing was wrong. The furnace and the fireplace were both lacking any fire burning inside. In fact, they were clean, not even the remains of wood or turf inside them. That struck me as very odd, along with the fact that no one else was inside.

"Where's the fire?" I asked Leha, thinking it might have just been steam before remembering it would still take heat to create that effect.

"Where's Armen," Leha shot back, "Something's wrong here." The room was warm, yet there was no fire. My curiosity grew. I began looking around more closely, wandering the space until something gave a little under my feet near the door. There was a large but thin rug, supposedly there simply to stop any of the vials that might have fallen from the table nearby. I laughed at the cliché, kicking it away. The trap door was revealed.

"A basement?" Leha asked, "I didn't know this place had a basement?"

"Neither did I," I said, "Shall we go see what Armen wants to hide so badly?"

I went to unlock the door, but stopped when I noticed a sound. The sound of a machine moving leaked out of the cracks, but I couldn't figure out exactly what it was. Someone was down there, Armen most likely, I figured. Not wanting to alert him, I opened the trap door slowly, hung off the edge and dropped to the drop instead of using the ladder.

The space around me was quite a bit larger than the building above, the weight of the ground supported by arches. It wasn't quite as big as a warehouse, but it was clearly meant for storage. Candles lit the way to another door, still within the confines of the building upstairs, but I had to explore the rest of the space. There were more tables, and objects on them that I simply had to see for myself. Leha climbed down too.

"What is this?" she whispered.

"I think I know," I whispered back, picking something off the nearest table.

It was a firelance. A muzzle-loading, flint-lock firelance for use with _gaatlok_ blackpowder. Nowhere near as advanced as the ones I used, but quite possibly hundreds of years ahead of what the Qunari had. It was something my ancestors might have recognised in the 1840s, some three hundred years or so in the past. It was more than half as long as I was tall, and the barrel was rifled. The craftmanship was precise too. I cocked the flint, aimed the weapon off of my shoulder and pulled the trigger. I got a satisfying ping as the hammer struck the stone off the steel, creating a spark.

There was only one person who could have crafted such a thing. It was only just within the technological capability of Thedas to create, and it could only have been created with knowledge from Earth. I looked around the place and saw a dozen more weapons along the same lines, all slightly different. The weapon's design was being refined.

I was seriously confused. This world was not ready for such weapons, and there were reasons enough to stay away from making them besides that. Reasons I had made perfectly clear to my entire group. I almost ran Leha clean over as I paced towards the far door, towards the sound of the machinery. I practically kicked it down, the firelance still in my hand.

I found Armen and Julie inside. The blacksmith looked up from reading something by a fireplace, the source of the smoke rising through the exhaust of the furnace. She looked absolutely astonished to see me, and not the least bit guilty. The mage was operating the machine, and the machine was almost certainly a printing press. A stack of blank paper was to one side of him, and a stack of bound prints was to the other. He at least had the decency to look guilty.

"What is this?" I asked, holding up the weapon, "Because it looks like a god damn rifled musket."

Julie sat down on a stool, and bade Leha and I to sit. We did so, while Armen nodded to her, before continuing to check out the latest prints. The blacksmith sighed, and looked at me with honest eyes.

"I don't want to lie to you," she said, "It is exactly what it looks like." She reached behind her and picked up another firelance, this time with more refinements to the design. She placed the butt on the ground and held it so I could see it.

"You wouldn't give us the weapons, Sam," Julie continued, "And we knew we would need them. Orlais, the Templars, the Qunari... eventually someone is going to come and destroy us." Her tone pleaded with me to understand. I wavered, but my resolve rallied.

"I can't allow that to happen," she continued, "I won't let them take you, and I won't let them destroy what we are building." I really wish I had been kinder to her at this moment. It is painful to remember.

I was rendered speechless for a moment. It was a complete betrayal, even if it was all to save me. Julie was a determined, intelligent, caring person, but I could not accept that these things had led her to disregard my opinion so readily.

"Does Tam know?" I asked, wondering if it had been a conspiracy of sorts.

Julie shook her head. "Tam agrees with you," she said, "I asked her if we should do this months ago, and she said no. She thought that Orlais would steal our weapons and launch an Exalted March if we tried." Which was very nearly what happened.

"Obviously, you disagreed with that," I said, "Do you have the formula?" Referring to the gunpowder, there.

"I found it one of your military books," Julie said quietly, "Along with pictures that helped me make these." I looked down at the weapon laying across my lap.

In retrospect, I should have been glad she hadn't decided to make a full-blown cannon. Artillery is what wins wars, not small arms. I was too upset. I felt like I had been kicked in the chest. However, I had to deal with the reality of the situation, no matter how hard it was. I needed a moment to gather my thoughts, a moment that Leha provided.

"What's with the printing press?" the dwarf asked, thumbing behind her towards the machine, "That's a dwarf design too, or I'm not from Orzammar." The only people who possessed such equipment in Orlais were the Chantry and the Dwarva, which is probably why authors tended to live in the Free Marches where anyone could be published if they could sway a publisher. Though publishers there still tended to be dwarva too. Control the press, control opinion.

"Have a look," said Armen, handing us two of the prints. I needed the distraction, so I looked it over.

" _Le Sens Commun_ ," I read aloud, " _For the peoples of the Dales, on the subject of your liberty and your ability to defend it._ " In Orlesian, of course.

Julie looked at me for a response, but I was in no mood to praise her, no matter how noble her sentiments.

"I hope the content isn't as plagiarised as the title," I growled, "You do realise that fomenting revolution will get us killed as quickly as showing up with weapons everyone wants?"

The blacksmith rolled her eyes at that. "War is coming anyway," she stated, "Celene and Gaspard will see to that." I scoffed, but could not actually deny the truth in that statement. Instead, I flicked through the pages.

" _Andraste set us free from the magisters, yet the royal family have made us slaves again. Even the nobles must murder each other to speak for their natural rights before the Empress,_ " Leha read aloud, before slamming the paper on the ground, "By the Stone, the Divine will send an Exalted March here if she reads this!"

Thankfully the Divine had enough on her plate to make that an impossibility, but she hardly needed to when push came to shove. I was glad at least Leha understood the danger.

"Here's a good line," I said sarcastically to her, " _Andraste said that magic must serve man, but how can magic serve man when mages are locked away, their talents used for the health and amusement of the high nobility alone!_ " I stared at Armen, recognising his politics immediately in the text. He held his hands up.

"Don't look at me," the mage said, before pointing at Julie, "She added it after you decided to take a walk through magical thunder and fire." He damn well agreed with it though. I handed him back the pamphlet. It was outrageous.

"The weapons I could almost understand," I said to both of them, "But your people aren't ready for these ideas. They'll get boatloads of innocent folks killed." I felt that the Orlesian peasant was so inferior that I could not believe they could aspire to anything greater without a long period of adjustment. Many movements for change descended into the most horrific barbarism on Earth, and I expected the same would happen here. I possessed an arrogance about it, and Julie knew it.

"What, we're too stupid for our own freedom?!" she said, standing up, "I'm not sure it's your business, whether or not we want this." That set me off like a powderkeg.

"Just because you're willing to fight, doesn't mean you'll win! You're not a general!" I shouted, "Not every revolution succeeds, and some of those that do just make things worse!" No one in Thedas has experienced the revolutionary tribunal, the show trial, the forced conscription of millions for battles commanded by imbeciles. It has known evil, sure, but it has not known gulags or gas chambers. The names Stalin and Hitler do not ring out here like they do on Earth, despite my best efforts in other writings that I have disseminated widely. People are still far too willing to kill each other over race and religion, even in my new home. I wanted desperately to avoid that fate.

"Your people succeeded and built a great country!" Julie said, pouring every ounce of her determination into her voice, "I want a country too. If you don't like it, shoot me." I threw my hands up and turned away from her, before pinching the bridge of my nose. I couldn't say anything to that.

I gently but quickly kissed her on the cheek. I looked into her eyes, and mumbled an apology. I couldn't support Julie on this, but I wasn't willing to oppose her either. I left the room, ditching the firelance by the door forcibly.


	43. Uninvited Guests I

The Templars did not wait long to try and overturn our great victory at the Wolf's Lair. Nearly two months later, a month after I had discovered Julie's secret, they struck with unrelenting force.

It was my fault, at least partially. The stunt with the mages had not only spread word of my own secrets, namely my immunity to the Fade and my extra-Thedosian origins. Over the course of December, Cassus or Haring to you, word trickled back that the Templars were telling people further north that only a Fade creature could be immune to the Fade. The mages' presence was not only open but very well known. Word reached Val Royeaux at the start of December, and I got a rather displeased letter from Sister Leliana on the subject.

I thought little of it. The snows had become too heavy for any army large enough to move without taking huge casualties from attrition, or so I thought.

Exacerbating this was Julie's own efforts, very much a case of the mouse playing while the cats were away. Her publication, _Le Sens Commun_ , became as spectacularly popular as the one it was named for. I had greatly underestimated the level of discontent in the Dales, not least from the 'city' elves, whom took to it almost like it was a sacred text. It certainly didn't help when Leha got a whiff of the profit margins, and began shipping crates of the damned thing with the alcohol we moved downriver. It seems that radical political literature can breed coins as well as finely distilled liquor. Orlesians do like to be titillated.

I was never involved with the process, but if I had to guess from the money we saw, at least a hundred thousand copies had been sold in the first month. Not all of them printed by us. Even the Carta seemed to get in on the act. Illiterate peasants were whipped up, hearing it read out in taverns and village halls at night, merchants squabbled over its message on taxation, Revered Mothers would either condemn or support its principles from the pulpit, while nobles in Halamshiral and at the University of Orlais discussed its principles on liberty. All four would come to me at various points in future to ask what my input had been. Julie had referred directly to Earth at one point in it, after all. I was very glad to tell them my part in its creation was nil.

Whether it was my popular status as a living anomaly or Julie's heresy for using Andraste's example against the political and religious status quo, powerful forces began to take note. Two would be visiting us within the day. A third bided its time.

* * *

And so it came to the night of Christmas Eve, the Thirty-Eighth year of the Dragon Age.

Everyone had been given the day and the one after for family. I had decorated perhaps the first Christmas tree ever to see Thedas, although far from the last. I explained to gathered crowds the purpose behind the vacation, as best I could without a Bible or a Dickens novel. With some modification of course, to account for local sensibilities on the subject of the gender of the saviour. It was quite amusing to retell the stories to an audience that had never heard them before.

Sunlight turned to darkness, and the night began.

I was still not on good speaking terms with Julie, our original group having been split in two by our fight. Tam and Leha both agreed with me, Armen and Ciara sided with Julie. I had even slept elsewhere for the whole month, something made tolerable only by the occasional presence of Tam. She suggested to both Julie and I to resolve our differences, but both of us were too stubborn to listen. That was Tam's way though. She loved us by that point, and knew we loved her though we weren't at the stage of saying it yet. It was painful for her to watch us separated, so she tried daily to mend things. And I loved her all the more for it.

I still felt like utter crap the whole four weeks or so. Christmas Eve felt like the right time to change that, but I couldn't bring myself to do it that day. I promised myself I would do something the day after.

So, with nothing to do due to my dismissal of almost all of my subordinates, I decided to join the night watch.

It was something I did only very occasionally until that month, when it became a welcome distraction. In retrospect, I would have done it sooner, considering how well I got to know some of my soldiers as a result. Another two of my heavy hitters had the same thought, and I ended up on top of the château with Soprano and Mike. We had converted the corner of the attic nearest the gate and the parade ground into a watchtower, complete with the night scope we had taken from the Templars. There was also a series of rope pulleys, allowing us to get to the ground in seconds, without having to go through the staircases inside.

We sat there for the first few hours of darkness, drinking hot herbal tea in our furs and scanning the surroundings. That probably saved a whole bunch of lives, but for hours, we did nothing else. We sat in silence, rubbing our hands together. As usual. The patrols sent out by Hearth's garrison caught most of the wild beasts or the rare Avvar raiding party. The watch was just to satisfy my own paranoia, but then again, it's not paranoia if they're really out to get you.

My presence seemed to cause Mike's curiosity to peak, and eventually she couldn't help herself. The opportunity was too juicy to leave be, apparently.

"Marquis, can I ask you a question?" she said, "A personal one."

Unsure what had caused her reaction, I decided there was no harm in talking. Though I wasn't sure where she was going with it, either.

"Is there any other kind, Sergeant?" I sighed, "Shoot."

"The dwarf says you're from another world. Not here, not the Fade, not the Void," Mike said, listing them off like they were the only possibilities, "The mistress seems to know a lot about it, but is it really true?"

'The' dwarf meaning Leha. Although she undoubtedly would not have enjoyed that title, I found it amusing enough. Tam was the mistress of course, her position in our ranks still extremely cloudy beyond that designation. Referring to her as 'the teacher' was probably accurate too, but less descriptive of what she did overall. I couldn't help but smirk. Mike took it that I was smirking at her, like what she had heard was ridiculous.

"I mean, you're immune to the Fade! No one's supposed to be!" Mike continued quickly, trying to explain herself, "And you haven't denied what Mother Brandon has been saying. I was just wondering..."

"Sergeant, you shouldn't bother the Marquis with such questions," Soprano stated, not taking her eyes away from the nightscope, "He has enough troubles as it is without your pestering." My falling out with Julie had been noticed, though the reason remained a secret. I almost wanted to declare why, as the mortifying rumour that it had to do with infidelity on my part had briefly circulated. I appreciated Soprano's consideration however.

"It's okay, no harm done," I said, "Yes Sergeant, I am from another world." Both of them stopped what they were doing to look at me, in the same incredulous way that Ciara had when she found out.

"There are some who say you are a demon," Soprano said speculatively.

"If I was a demon, would I be sitting out here freezing my ass off?" I laughed, "No, I'm human." Mostly.

I thought about their questions for a moment. Soprano and Mike were two of my most trusted soldiers, and I wanted to get to know them better. Perhaps an ironic position to take, given that I didn't use their real names, but they didn't seem to mind at all. Regardless, I wanted them to know I trusted them, and this was a good time to do so.

"Since you're both interested and can't hide it, I'll let you both ask me a question," I said, standing up and leaning against the edge, "But you'll have to keep watch while you ask. Captain, you can ask first. Privilege of rank." Both seemed to agree, and Soprano hummed deeply to herself. She swung the nightscope about while she thought about her inquiry.

"I heard your world has no elves," the Captain asked, "Did your people kill them?" The pair of them looked at me for an immediate answer, and I felt the weight of their unspoken doubts. If I was a human from another world, were humans from my world like my fellows in Thedas?

"No, they didn't," I replied, "Elves never existed there, except in stories. Stories we know aren't true, because they aren't that old. We know who wrote them and why." Tolkien strikes again. Hell, we know plenty about the people who wrote about the 'little people' and 'fairies' in Celtic Europe too.

Thedosian elves weren't exactly comparable to old tales about fairies either, considering that the latter were tiny in Earth mythology. Earth humans had destroyed other sentient species however, through a mixture of warfare and interbreeding. However, the last time that had happened was something like fifteen thousand to thirty thousand years ago, before we even had agriculture. The only reason we ever knew about it was the study of our own genetics and the evidence left over in buried bones.

"There are no Qunari or dwarves either," I added, "We humans get by killing each other just fine without them." A trait shared between worlds, if the brewing wars were any evidence.

Soprano seemed satisfied with my answer, returning her eye to the nightscope without further comment. That was as much talk as you ever got out of her. She was the mirror image of McNulty in that regard. I breathed a little easier, knowing that I had dodged any ill feelings she could have developed had my answer been less encouraging.

"I have a question that no one seems to have the answer to," Mike said, leaning across her knees, "How did you get here? Surely another world is very far away, far further than the moons." In truth, I wasn't sure if Earth was even in the same universe as this planet. I'm much more sure it isn't now, partially because of who I would meet very soon. The sergeant's question was a valid one. Tam had probably held out on answering that for fear of exposing the crash site of my helicopter, or to reduce the possibility that no one would believe the truth. Still, I couldn't help myself testing whether or not Mike would believe.

"I was in a flying machine over a battlefield, when it fell into the Fade somehow," I said, with not an ounce of sarcasm or jest, "We crashed south of Halamshiral."

Mike's eyes opened wide at that, and I could not tell if she thought I was crazy. Soprano was far more easy to read; she was very sceptical, even before she opened her mouth.

"Marquis, that's a load of halla shit," the Captain chuckled, "How can there be flying machines? You're just entertaining us now." I simply smiled politely, not taking her criticism to heart. After all, there was physical proof of it, if I ever really wanted to show someone.

"Believe what you want," I said with a shrug, "But think about this. I have weapons that can kill dozens of men at a time from hundreds of yards away. I have tools that let me see in the dark and see the heat of a person's body. I can talk with someone a half a mile away with even raising my voice, even while whispering. Is it really so hard to believe that my people can build machines that can fly, when they have already built machines that can do all of that?"

"He has a point, Captain," Mike admitted, "You were there at the prison. You saw what he did to the gatehouse." Soprano grumbled to herself, swayed by the comparison. It would have convinced me, I thought.

"Just because you can do those things doesn't mean you can fly," the Captain said, "So unless you show me the machine, I still say you're full of shit." Reserving judgment until the evidence came in was a respectable position, so I simply let her have it.

We settled into silence again for a moment, and my mind wandered back to the men I had arrived with. I wondered what life would have been like had they survived. Would I have met Julie and Tam in prison? Would we have even been captured? What would we have done if we weren't? Would it have been my doom? These questions had come into my consciousness before, and I wanted to share their cause with more people.

"When I arrived, I was not alone," I said quietly, "There were another seven or eight soldiers with me. Good people, willing to do their duty. We were in the desert before we were sucked up into the sky, and arrived into a forest in a matter of seconds. They fell in all the same... The first to find us wasn't a group of soldiers, or Templars, it was a dragon and its young. They fought it without a moment's hesitation. The dragon killed most of them, and the little ones got the last man. All of them died, except me." I took a deep gulp of my tea, as I stared off into the night, reliving the moment in my head. I snapped out of it when a particularly cold breeze slapped me on the cheek, and I turned to find both of the elves looking at me with pity.

Pleased to see they liked me enough for that, I smiled at them and slapped Soprano on the shoulder.

"I have new brothers in arms now though," I said, injecting a little more cheer into my tone, "Or should I say, sisters in arms?" Admirable self-deception on my part. Incidentally, I never was a great fan of gender integrated units before, but I would never split them up by sex now. Those issues seem to be better addressed here than in my home. Thank Andraste.

"Glad to be here, sir," Mike replied, before offering her hand. I shook it gently, feeling myself powerfully reinforced by the gesture. Even Soprano looked on with approval, before returning to the watch.

"Don't say that yet," I replied in jest, "You may live to regret it." Not sure she ever did, despite all that happened. I sat down again, only for Soprano to let out an alarmed gasp, stirring me to my feet once more.

"What's wrong?" Mike asked.

"Marquis, can you see that?" Soprano said, pointing in the direction the nightscope was, "I can make out movement, and it looks like humans, but it's too dark with the cloud cover."

My heart sank. That night of all nights was when we would be most vulnerable. Almost everyone having the night off meant most would not be readily armed and armoured. Crossbows were kept in homes, nothing else. I pulled the heat-vision equipment out of its pouch on my waist, attached it to my helmet and lowered to my eye.

There, in a line of angry white shapes against a deep black background, was the advancing enemy. The armour gathering the cold around them could only mean one thing. The Templars had arrived.

"It's the Templars," I said immediately, "Sound the alarm."

Soprano rang the bell, pulling at the clapper hard. Mike went to the edge and added her own voice to the cacophony. The diminutive elf, barely taller than Leha to my eye, was well able to speak above the clanging of the metal.

" _AUX ARMES!_ " the sergeant roared, " _LES TEMPLIERS SONT EN APPROCHE!_ "

To arms, the Templars are approaching. The race to defend ourselves had begun.

 


	44. Uninvited Guests II

I couldn't get to the other side of L'Ambassade quickly enough.

Soprano, Mike and I had scrambled down the rope, across the parade ground and into the mass of residential buildings. The cold bit my throat and chest hard as I breathed deeply, but all thought of that disappeared once the first fire started.

The falling snow in front of me glowed an angry orange-yellow as it fell, almost like sparks were falling from the heavens rather than ice. It was beautiful, in a strange sort of way, but it didn't move my attention for too long.

The weather would stop the flames spreading naturally, but the intention was clearly not to destroy the settlement in that way. For one, the place was designed to prevent that, but I could see no Templars advancing up the newly paved streets either. They had something else in mind, and whatever it was, I didn't like it. I spat a globule into the snow as we stopped about two thirds of the way down.

Already, people were gathering on the streets. Families peeked from doorways to see what was going on. My soldiers stepped outside, crossbows at the ready. Mages gathered with grim faces, prepared to fight together to the death. All three mixed with each other, plugging up the wide avenues that I had insisted upon for hygiene. No one seemed to be organised any sort of coherent line across the main street, nor any advance towards blocking the Templars from advancing. I saw the danger immediately, and feared the stampede that would inevitably come if the enemy simply showed themselves.

"Marquis, your orders?" Mike asked, crossbow in hand, "Should I rally them and move to attack?" Her confidence had grown, as had that of many in the past few months, but this wasn't the time for rash actions. I would have been willing to bet a tidy sum that rushing forwards was what the Templars were after, and that they knew our numbers. Indeed they did, as we discovered later. However, the first order of business for me was absolutely certain, born of the twofold concerns of protecting the civilians and not giving the Templars the opportunity to take hostages.

"Mike, we need all the civvies to the château, now!" I shouted, "Anyone not willing to fight needs to get the hell out of the way."

"What about you, sir?" the sergeant asked, "Shouldn't you withdraw too? We don't have the numbers to stop the Templars should they try to assassinate you." Displeased by the notion that they'd have the gall to try, I shook my head. I had already measured the calibre of the Templars as soldiers, and found them wanting. One of mine was worth any three of theirs, even without firelances.

"Let them try. The Captain and I will take anyone on the street here forwards to delay things while you get everyone to safety," I growled, "One more thing, shove McNulty out of whatever drunken hole he's in and tell him to get as many to the armoury as he can. We can only stop these bastards for so long." I remember thinking that a counterattack would catch them off balance, and relishing the opportunity.

"Good luck, sir," Mike said, before running off down the street shouting commands. Fighters to the Marquis, everyone else to the château, _bougez ou crevez_ , things along those lines. Much to my satisfaction, a collection of people willing to fight began forming a circle around me and Soprano. Not all of them were part of my little army either, which did much to strengthen my nerves. That the ordinary worker was willing to volunteer said much for our accomplishments, though I suspect it was out of religious zeal now that I've had more than a few years to think about it.

"We need to buy time for your families and friends to make it to the château, and for the rest of our people to mobilise," I explained, "I think everyone further ahead is gone, so we'll hold this section here. Anyone with a crossbow or magic, get up on the roofs cover all the ways in and out of this block. Everyone else, start dragging out tables, chairs, anything we can use for barricades. There's going to be a lot of them, and we won't make it if they can get a clear run at us." I left fears about cavalry or artillery unsaid, as the Templars were rich enough to bring plenty of both if they wanted to. Though I discounted the latter's presence on the basis of the snow.

"You heard the Marquis, archers and mages get to climbing," Soprano said taking control, "What the hell are you doing, standing around?"

The gathering dispersed. Soprano's ad hoc platoon started hoisting themselves on top of the bungalows. One would hand their crossbow to the other, climb up, take their crossbow back along with another, then pull the other up. Through this or sheer exertion, most of the mages and crossbowmen were in position in no time, though they began taking time to position themselves to avoid getting shot themselves. Meanwhile, Mike pushed the startled non-combatants, telling them to keep to the left of the street as they moved and to walk rather than run. She almost certainly prevented a rush as a result.

With nothing to do but wait, I checked my own weapons. As usual for the watch, I had the heavy firelance and my handcannon, but no mace or shield and no particular abundance of ammunition. With no clue how many Templars were coming. That was far from ideal. I had no indication of enemy numbers save what I had seen from the lookout tower, and that hadn't been much. The snow got in the way. Realising this, I groaned to myself. What if I was overreacting? Or worse, what if they had brought overwhelming force to bear? I had already ordered the Hearth garrison to stay out of any fighting that might occur at L'Ambassade to keep the townspeople out of it, so no help would be coming. Simply put, I had to know.

The last civilians filed past me, and through the growing pile of wood starting to resemble a barricade capable of stopping a charge. Nothing was going to get around me and the defence would hold long enough without me, I reassured myself. I inhaled deeply, before marching forwards through the snow, drawing my fur cloak around my shoulders and putting the hood down again so I could use my visual equipment.

For several minutes, I saw no movement ahead. The flurry of snow was still reflecting the fires. It was very good cover. I heard no great thudding of a large number of troops advancing, only the chomp of my own boots across the cobbles and the crackle of burning wood. I stopped beside the nearest burning house, the closest of about seven to the château. I began to hope it was only a raiding party. That would have been consistent with what I had seen from above. I moved forwards again, firelance barrel raised.

I passed the next set of houses turned bonfires, and the next, but still nothing. The woods beyond were becoming more visible. I strained my eyes trying to see into them, to discover what lay in the snow, waiting to strike. If anything.

Suddenly, the sound of splintering wood erupted to my left. I swung in an instant to shoot, sure it was some Templar assassin trying to stick daggers into my back. Instead, Julie and Leha stumbled out of the doorway. I almost had to pull my finger off the trigger with my other hand, they had come so close to being riddled with shot. They were both soot covered and gasping, huddled on their knees in their indoor clothes, but alive. It occurred to me that Leha's dormitory was down this end of our estate, and that the burning house they had just exited must have been it. I went over, weapon lowered.

"Are you okay?" I asked. The question startled them, as they finally noticed my presence, but their surprise turned to gladness very quickly.

"Sam, thank the Maker," said Julie, "What's happening?" Somehow, they weren't aware of how much shit we were in. That didn't bode well for asking them if they had seen how many were setting the fires in the first place, so I didn't bother.

"The Templars are here," I told them, keeping to the essential information, "Are you armed?" The pair looked around in fear for a moment, but found no plate-toting maniacs in sight. Leha shook her head at my question, her weapons going up in smoke with her house.

Julie grimaced, before finally standing up straight and pulling her handcannon off of her hip.

"We were in the basement, talking," Julie explained, holding up the weapon, "Didn't think we'd be fighting anyone, so I only have what's in this." So fifteen shots. Not exactly great news. I cursed loudly, and helped Leha up.

"Okay, here's the deal," I said, "Julie, shoot only when I'm reloading. Leha, find something to swing from all the dead fucks that are going to be around soon." The dwarf must have been a lot less perturbed on the whole 'Templars coming to kill us' thing, because she actually managed to look confused by the wording I had used. Julie was in her fight mindset at least. She wore the same face that she had when I had first stepped into her cell months earlier. Months that felt like years, as so much had happened. I thought to retreat again, now that I had seen this end and found nothing.

The clip-clop of horses hooves on stone got our attention, announcing the arrival of the Templars. They appeared from behind trees and out of the gloom at the end of the street, like ghosts wandering out of hidden crypts. Plate-armoured swordsmen and chain-mailed archers walked like ducks through the heavy snow and onto the cleared ground of our settlement. Leading them was a familiar bastard, showing up on horseback with an immense shit-eating grin on his face. I was very pleased to see him, because I didn't get to kill him the first time we had met. With that in mind, I raised my firelance to send him to the afterlife. Until he spoke.

"Parlay," said Knight-Captain Denam, grin undiminished.

"Shit," I said, lowering my weapon. Flags of truce were to be respected under Earth's international law, and I believed in that particular piece of it. Well, mostly. Besides, it bought me time to figure out how many Templars there were. I highly doubted that splitting forces when assaulting a fixed position was part of the tactical thinking of the order. Or anyone else, for that matter.

Julie was less restrained, and raised her handcannon to shoot.

"Wait, he called a truce," I said, putting my hand on her arm, "Let him speak." Julie ground her teeth, but complied. The Templars stopped moving and formed a shieldwall about fifty yards away, which let her calm down a little.

"Well then, Marquis," Denam said, "When we met last, I was not aware of who you are and what your allegiances are. But now I am." The rumour mill had done its job. I really wish I could burn down the rumour mill and piss on the ashes.

"Well, that's not fair," I said sarcastically, "I don't know much about you, because I thought you were dead. How did you survive? Cowardice, no doubt." That touched a nerve, and the Knight-Captain's face screwed up with anger.

"I was forced to throw off my Templar colours and pretended to be a Tranquil, yes," he said, "But the day of reckoning has come."

"Doesn't it always," muttered Leha loudly, crossing her arms, "Reckoning is all your type are good for. Why don't you go home out of the snow and leave us be?" Denam shook his head, finding her suggestion absurd and offensive in equal measure. I thought it was rather good myself.

"Samuel Hunt, the so-called Peacekeeper and Marquis de la Fayette. Word has reached us of your true nature. Your powers could only come from one source," the Templar declared, "You are possessed, a demon made flesh. There is no other explanation. Whose body you inhabit, we do not know, but we shall free his soul from your grasp." By killing me, of course.

Julie scoffed, putting her palm on her head for a second. I was tempted to join her in the action. It wouldn't be the last time I would be called a demon, and Denam was far from the person of highest authority on the subject to say so, but as conclusions go, it's crap.

"He is no demon," she said, "I know."

Denam laughed loudly. "What, because you are sleeping with him? A copper-bit whore's insight into the realm of the Fade isn't worth the copper," the Templar declared, "Besides, madamoiselle Marteau, you are in as much trouble as he is. Using Andraste's holy name to raise rebellion against the Chantry, not to mention the Empire of Orlais? You will hang."

Julie raised her handcannon again, keeping him centred. She held back her fire, for the moment. The hatred boiled off of her. I thought she was waiting for his next insult, so I cut in.

"What did you want to talk about, Denam?" I asked, "Or did you just come to threaten us with doom?"

The Knight-Captain sighed wearily, like we were simply a burden.

"You and the Qunari must die, and the mages must be returned to our … care," he said, "But there are many innocents that can be saved. Peasants who don't know any better. Surrender, you will be given trials rather than being killed here and now. The peasants will be spared and left to their own devices."

I considered the offer for only the briefest of moments. Escape from the Templars might have been possible, and there were many people who should not have been involved in this. On the other hand, Denam was a zealot, which was one of the few things I did know about him. He was far more likely to burn and pillage our entire community, kill the mages and 'peasants' alike, and then haul Julie, Tam and I off to Val Royeaux for some recreational torture before hanging.

"It's attractive, but I can't trust you as far as I can throw you," I replied, "Go fuck yourself."

Denam spread his lips wide, showing all his teeth in a snarling smile that I couldn't regard as fully human. I remember thinking the man had strange teeth, which is a strange thought to have at such a moment, but it was what it was. He turned his horse about and began to trot away.

"I was hoping you would say that," he said over his shoulder, "I am looking forward to gutting you."

Once again, I was too slow to kill him. The Knight-Captain raised his arm and dropped it again, signalling the attack. The line of Templar swordsmen advanced again, but that wasn't what put the fear of God into me. The hiss of arrows would soon join them, and I could just make out the figures behind, drawing their bows.

"Oh shit," I shouted, "Cover!"

Julie, Leha and I scrambled to find something, anything to hide behind, but there was practically nothing around except burning buildings. The heat prevented me from entering one I thought had been just safe enough. Leha ducked behind a barrel only large enough to cover her and no one else, certainly not a human or two. Julie tried to outpace the coming volley, sprinting away to avoid the area the arrows were to land in. The sound of shields being pounded, wood falling into the flames, all gave way to the sailing sound of the shots coming at us.

Our attempts to get away were unsuccessful. The arrows made their mark.

If it hadn't been for my armour, I would have been a pincushion. I was struck by no less than seven of the damned things. One struck me in the helmet to no great effect. Four hit me square in the chest, leaving nasty dents in the material under my fur coat but doing no other harm. I guess the Templars were used to fighting unarmoured opponents. Two more gouged nasty wounds on my right shoulder and left thigh, but they were glancing hits only, the arrows flashing past and bouncing off the ground behind me. Hurt like hell though. Wincing through the pain, and managed to steady my weapon.

I sent a burst or two at the coming Templars, stopping them cold. To my utter disgust and horror, they dispersed, hiding in the side streets or spreading out. Denam had me pegged from the beginning. Displeased by this discovery, I checked my wounds for a second and determined to use the time I had just bought.

I turned to the others, and found them in a very bad way.

Leha had an arrow in her arm, and was tugging it out when I saw her. She broke off the tip, and pulled the shaft out the way it had come. Not a pleasant thing, I imagined. I turned to find Julie, and found her on the ground a couple of yards back. She had two white-feathered arrows in her back below her ribs, and she wasn't moving.

My throat felt like someone had punched me. I struggled to breath, but used every remaining bit of air in my lungs to run over to Julie as fast as I could. I fell to my knees beside her, slung my firelance and grasped at her neck for a pulse. She coughed, rendering my action pointless. I sucked in the air greedily, as I fell to my ass with the relief.

"Can you get up?" I asked, "We really need to get out of here."

"It hurts!" Julie said, "Andraste help me!"

As if to illustrate my point, a couple of Templar archers appeared from various nooks and loosed some speculative shots at us. The arrows thudded off the ground and away, still encouraging us to get moving. I sent another burst chasing after the offending shooters, the muzzle flashes strobing light into the dark corners not lit up by the fires. There were more Templars moving around behind the intact buildings on either side of the street, along the edge of the parade ground and in the woods on the opposite side. Looking to surround us. I wasn't about to let them, and urged the others to hurry.

"We need to pull them out first," Leha said, gripping the first with her fist, "Get ready."

She pulled away each in quick order, Julie letting out shouts of pain. The sort I was very familiar with. Neither of the arrowheads got stuck inside her, thank God, but the bleeding was bad. I quickly gathered the bottom of her work shirt around the wound and retied her belt around the area. That would hold until we got back to the barricades, at least. I grabbed her hand to reassure her, but found it limp. She had passed out from the pain. I cursed.

"Leha, you know how to use this?" I asked, picking up Julie's handcannon, "If you do, shoot it at the bastards if they show their faces." I gave the dwarf the weapon, and as soon as she had it, she cracked off two rounds at a Templar I hadn't seen. It was one of the archers, a young one, and she fell dying and screaming. That would keep them away just long enough, and I had to give it to Leha, her accuracy was impressive. Beginner's luck, as it turned out.

I pulled the unconscious Julie up onto my back, slinging my weapon to the front of me and wrapping her arms around my shoulders. Grunting and heaving, I began walking back the way I had come as fast as I could, glad to be moving again. More arrows sailed by, alarmingly close, but their numbers were small enough to ignore. I picked up the pace as best I could regardless.

Leha punctuated the quiet of the night with shots from Julie's Beretta, but that didn't seem to be reducing the number of attacks that were coming.

"Are you hitting anything with that fucking thing?!" I shouted, "You're almost dry!" I had been counting her shots.

"Would you like to give it a try?!" Leha complained back, shooting her second-to-last round.

"Only if you want to carry her," I replied, knowing full well the dwarf was too small to pull it off, "It doesn't matter, we're here."

The sight of Soprano standing on the corner of a roof, her bow drawn and eyes sharp, was like the damned Second Coming to me. I knew we were saved. The Captain sent her first arrow the Templars way with cool precision, followed by the crossbow bolts and spells of another thirty or so. The barricade was nearly complete too. I rushed for it, feeling my strength boosted by the prospect of some temporary safety.

I moved through a gap in the middle, and Leha followed me through. Soprano barked the order to shoot the second volley, taking her own words to heart by loosing another arrow. I put Julie down on her stomach, and snatched a look. The Templar shield wall was reforming, now that I was out of sight and mind. It was moving slowly and carefully forwards. Satisfied we had a few minutes, I turned around to check on Julie, and found someone entirely unexpected kneeling over her, checking her wound.

"Back away, now," I said, raising my firelance from my hip at Delrin Barris, "Those are your buddies out there, they did this to her." The Templar was in full plate, sword at his waist, but had no indication of hostility. That drew some of my own away.

"I know. I came as soon as I heard. Your footman captain let me come here," he replied, following my command, "She needs a healer. I'll go get one." I felt like going back and shooting McNulty, but there was some method to his madness. At least now I had a ready source of information. Barris got up and called one of the mages on a roof. I checked on Julie again, as Leha took the Templar's place in making sure the wound had pressure on it. She was waking.

"Where are we?" she asked, "Is it over?" I shook my head, rubbing her hand with mine.

"We're in the residencies," I replied, "It's only been a few minutes." She tried to stand up, but failed, falling onto her stomach again. She cried in agony for a moment.

"Stay put, a healer's coming now," I said, as Barris led an older man over. The mage looked over the wounds, and began pouring magic into her without so much as a word. Julie seemed to relax as it happened, which was a good sign I thought, but the lack of prognosis was killing me.

"How bad is it?" I asked.

"Not your business," the mage replied impolitely, trying to concentrate, "Stop distracting me. Go fight, or none of us will survive." The backhand slap he was close to receiving would have stopped the healing process. I stopped myself, moved away. Barris and Leha joined me, waiting for my move. I sighed, and brought my radio mouthpiece to my mouth.

"This is La Fayette to McNulty," I said, "Report."

"We're almost ready to come relieve you, sir," McNulty said wearily in return, the sound of metal moving in the background of the transmission, "We need another five minutes."

Lightning flashes grabbed my eyes, the combat mages on the roofs above letting some of their more powerful tricks loose. Fireballs and ice spikes joined in. The Templars weren't close enough to use their abilities yet, though they were still pretty resistant to such attacks even at this distance. They were at about eighty yards and closing. Which was far too close for my liking, or Soprano's for that matter.

"We don't have five minutes," the captain of skirmishers said, both over the radio and to us from above, "There are hundreds of Templars, moving in from all sides now." That was better news than I had feared, because it meant we could still potentially win, but it was far worse than I had hoped.

"McNulty, secure the château," I said, "We'll come to you."

"Do you see any Orlesian banners up there?" Barris asked Soprano. The Captain shook her head.

"Seems to be just Templars, as far as I can tell," she said, "Besides, the Empress would send far more than this." Barris nodded, a smile on his face.

"That means that the Divine hasn't called for help," the Templar said, "Someone has launched this attack without Chantry authority." Which was a sliver of hope.

"Denam," I said, "He must have gone back and talked the survivors from Halamshiral into this."

"Or got independent leave from the Lord Seeker to act," Barris said, as if everyone knew what he was talking about, "But this still shouldn't be happening."

"Does that mean you're with us?" I asked, "Or do I have to throw you over that barricade as a hostage?" Barris found that amusing, smiling widely and drawing his sword.

"I fight for the honour of the Templars," he said, "The men and women out there are misguided, but they fight against it." Good enough for me. I readied my weapon again.

"Leha, move Julie to the château. Take the healer with you," I commanded, "Soprano, hold. Let the Templars get close, and prepare to loose a volley when you can smell them."

"Yes, Marquis," Soprano replied in clipped tone, before shouting the order herself to stop the pulling of triggers and the swinging of magical staffs. Leha and the healer tipped a cart that had been added to the barricade back onto its wheels, and manoeuvred Julie onto it carefully. I went over to her. I needed to say something to her. I wasn't sure if either of us would live through the next few hours. I had too many regrets to say silent.

I crouched down, so I could speak to her face to face. Tired green eyes looked at me, and my urge to get what I had off my chest increased tenfold.

"Listen, I'm sorry," I said, brushing her cheek, "You should fight for whatever you feel is right for your people, and I shouldn't tell you whether or not you should risk your life for something better." At that moment, I felt like I had taken away her right to do just that. She smiled warmly.

"You are forgiven," she replied, kissing my palm, "Thank you for everything." I had a dark feeling that she was saying that as her last words, but I was far too afraid to respond. She had been the first decent person I had met in Thedas, a wonderful woman with wit, charm and intelligence. Leaving her like this seemed like a crime, yet it had to be done.

"Marquis, they're here!" Soprano shouted.

I jumped up and looked, grabbing the grip of my firelance. The sound of wood being shoved onto the ground knocked around, followed by the sight of Templar swordsmen forcing their way through and over the barricade. Their shields were raised over their heads.

"Soprano, now!" I shouted, "Leha, get Julie to the château!"

Leha grabbed the handles of the cart at the front, the healer doing the same. Together, they took off through the snow, getting Julie out of the way. I could only spare a glance at this however, as the situation in front of me required far more attention.

The mages and soldiers above attacked the Templars below in a volley, spells and bolts impacting armour to little effect for the most part but finding their place against some unfortunates. The Templars fired arrows back from afar, or tried to climb up onto the roofs unsuccessfully. Barris grabbed one, surprising the man entirely and taking his life with a perfect stab under the breastplate. My fears about him switching sides in the face of the enemy were lifted, at least.

I could see that all the delaying that could be done was done. Time to withdraw.

"Retreat!" I ordered, "Barris, you too! To the château!"

The mages, the crossbowmen, Soprano and Barris all fled their posts, in that order. Those on the roofs clambered down with little difficulty onto piles of snow, and then away towards safety. However, without the constant shooting to slow them down, the Templars were emboldened. A great battlecry rose up from behind the barricade, and it was shattered seconds later in a great wave of human flesh and plate armour. A wave that came straight at me. It was terrifying.

However, mastering your fear is pretty much the first thing a soldier in combat has to do, and I had had plenty of practice.

I unleashed my heavy-firelance on the mass, shooting lines of tracers into the nearest before switching to the next. My barrel swept across the street at the troops coming at me. The plate armour didn't save any of them, and they lacked the magical barriers that had saved so many of White Mask's troops at first. Bullets pierced and ripped without mercy, tearing into guts and slicing open necks, with wet thuds. Bodies fell over each other, broken. Not something you forget. The tale of the slaughter I could personally unleash would begin spreading from that day onwards.

By the time I ran out of ammunition, the Templars had stopped coming, hovering at the corners of the buildings and stealing glances at me, waiting to see if the carnage was over. The barricade was a moving, moaning gallery of death. I feel immensely guilty about it today, and the reason for that is simple. At the time, I felt elation. A high of victory. I had conquered them. Those whom had done harm to one of my loved ones. I guess there was a certain masculine pride to it that is embarrassing to me today. Though I would do it again.

Knowing that the act of reloading would draw them in, I sprinted off towards the château. No arrows chased me this time, only the howling of the wind and the dying.

 


	45. Uninvited Guests III

The château was well-prepared when I arrived, so much so that it almost killed me.

I was running at full tilt towards the entrance, finally breaking out of the street of residencies and back out onto the parade ground near the château. As the ground stretched almost as far as the street itself, I peered back to see if the Templars were following. They were, in large numbers and drawn up in formation. Deciding I needed to run faster, I spun back around to continue. A crossbow bolt whizzed by my ear, and I ducked. It had come from our own people. It was the last damned thing I needed.

"Stop shooting!" I shouted, making sure my radio was transmitting as well. I looked up at the château itself. The many windows on the second floor were full of wary looking men and women, crossbows ready to shoot. The same was true of the attic windows, though they had longbows instead. I picked myself off the ground, realising that I wasn't a target anymore, and ran as hard as I could to the archway.

Mike and McNulty appeared at the gate. They both appeared dishevelled from running about, probably from getting dressed too quick in the latter case, the Captain's hair was more messy than it usually was. They helped me in, before twenty or so of my soldiers closed them and began bracing the heavy wooden doors we had replaced the old ones with. I doubted it would be enough.

"Everyone is inside," McNulty reported, as we strode down the archway, "I've posted all our troops to either the windows or the garden. Lydia is in the attic with our best shots. The mages are going to stop any fires started and attend to the wounded, though the Knight-Enchanter insisted on having her people in the garden." I wondered who Lydia was, before recalling that he meant Soprano. Pleased he had done the best job I could have expected, I gave him a nod and a pat on the shoulder.

We entered the garden. McNulty's heavies and Velarana's battlemages were both around the edges, with the militia looking on with swords and shields. I recognised the standard of Duval on some of the shields, the Templar flaming-sword on others. Civilians mobbed around the square with nothing to do. The elderly and children, for the most part, as everyone else had picked up a weapon of some kind and was very much counted among the soldiery. There were now nearly two thousand people in the château, and there was still plenty of room to move about. A testament to its size, to say the least.

I realised that if the Templars got through anywhere, the garden would be the first place. The gates were just too vulnerable to hold. I ordered McNulty to move the non-combatants to the attic, the fear of fire a non-issue with so many mages around to put out anything the Templars tried to set ablaze. He saluted and ran off to talk with Velarana about getting it done.

I waited until he was gone, before turning to Leha.

"Where are they?" I asked, knowing she'd understand who I was talking about.

"Your room," she replied, "Armen and Ciara are up there too."

The dwarf brought me, via the courtyard stairs and through the inner corridor overlooking. Some of the doors to the rooms were open, showing the I stopped her before she opened the door, not sure whether or not I'd been saying goodbye. Clenching my jaw with nerves, I went in anyway.

The first people I noticed were Ciara and Armen at the left window, looking out at the advancing Templars, whom had lit torches. The light from outside reflected off them, revealing grim faces. They didn't turn from their watch, bow and staff in hand. They weren't who I was looking for, so my eyes searched elsewhere.

The bed had been moved further into the room, away from the windows, the headboard facing outwards almost so as to act as a shield from further mischief from outside. Tam stood, leaning over, her bow out so she could join the defence at a moment's notice. Julie lay splayed out on her stomach, clothing removed from her top half, backwards on the bed with her arms out wide, her head where her feet usually would lay and vice versa. She was sweating and wasn't moving, the bloody stain from the wounds made a mess far up her back and all over the bedsheets. The healer was beside her, hands glowing.

Julie wasn't awake and I expected the worst. I simply had to know how bad it was. Tam came around the bed and gave me a warm but short hug, before sitting down. That calmed me down a bit, and I thanked her before stepping ahead, coming to a wobbly stop beside the bed. 

"How is she doing?" I asked quietly, the words sticking in my mouth a little. Which was a fair indication of how screwed up I was.

"She'd be doing a lot better if I wasn't interrupted every five minutes," the healer complained loudly, as he sealed the wound, "Shut up and sit down somewhere out of the way." Piece of shit had a lot of work to do on his bedside manner, though he was clearly skilled at the technical aspect of his trade. As much as anyone in Thedas was, which wasn't saying much.

His complete dismissal set me off like I was the god damned Guns of the Navarone. With a sort of cold callous disregard for his opinion, I pulled my handcannon from its holster, cocked it and flicked the safety off. I levelled the barrel at the man's face. He looked up at the weapon blankly, almost without interest, his hands' glow dying out. I had his attention and intended to keep it.

"That wasn't a request," I said venomously, "There are six hundred other mages in this building, including one in this very room. You're replaceable. So I suggest you answer the fucking question!"

"Sam..." Leha said, trying to calm me down. That just made things worse.

"Shut up," I snapped at her. Tam moved closer to me again, putting her arms around me to try and soothe my rage. Violet eyes pierced me, telling me to restrain myself. A Qunari Tamassran trick I would learn later, and one she pulled on other occasions. One she only ever did for Julie and I. The Qunari take leave of their senses far more easily than we humans, or so everyone keeps telling me. She didn't touch my outstretched arms or get in my way, and what she did worked. My blood settled a little.

"Fine," the healer said, "Since you're so determined to risk her life for a report, you can have one. I had to put her into a deep sleep. The damage to her tissues can be healed easily, but the wounds were so deep that the fevers may kill her anyway. Satisfied?" His demeanor still made me want to riddle him with bullets, but he had given way. He returned to his work, hands glowing again.

A huge pang of guilt for what I had just done washed over me, but I gulped it down quickly. I wasn't the time for this. I holstered my weapon quickly, detached myself from Tam and walked around the bed to a startled Ciara and a concerned Armen.

The Templars had stopped, and were preparing a makeshift battering ram, balancing large shields on the sides of a cart and adding a prow made of a felled tree to it. The torches swayed in the wind menacingly, and I could tell none of our opponents were happy to be caught outside by their huddling together. My mind raced to decide what I could do to stop them. How I could break up their plans and send them running for their lives. Aside from wasting all my ammunition, I was coming up a little short. Which pissed me off.

Luckily, Armen was on hand to remind me of something. "What happened out there?" the mage asked, moving aside for Leha carrying a chair and her crossbow.

"Templars tried to talk to us," the dwarf said, "It didn't go well." A succinct and accurate answer if ever there was one.

My mind moved to thoughts of Knight-Captain Denam, and what a colossal turd he was. And yet, I couldn't help but wonder how he had managed to rally so many to fight. Evidently, he had pull with someone. I sensed an opportunity.

"What matters now is fending them off," I said, "We need to cut the head off the snake."

I knelt by the bed again, reaching underneath and unclasped the metal box strapped to the underside, before dragging it out. Inside were the tools I thought I might need at a moment's notice. My last remaining Claymore mines, six of them. A standard firelance with a couple of magazines for it. A bandolier of grenades. A bayonet. Other bits and pieces. Leha and the healer had a peek, probably wondering just what the hell most of it was. They were about to get a small demonstration.

I removed the precision firelance, with its telescopic sight, and a flaregun.

With no small amount of anger-induced gusto, I grabbed another chair, dragged it to the window beside Leha and Ciara, and sat down. I set down my heavy firelance, throwing its strap over my head, lay the sniper weapon across my lap and popped open the flaregun. I began whistling _Yankee Doodle_ as I shoved the illumination flare into its place.

"Right, let's get this party started," I said to no one in particular, "Armen, I think you'll enjoy this most of all." The mage cocked his head to the side.

I aimed the flaregun from my chair up out of the window, and pulled the trigger. The effect was immediate and spectacular. A bright white star hissed from the barrel, and flew up into the overcast sky, spilling brilliant light over the entirety of our settlement, parade ground included. The Templars' full numbers were easily visible now, and there had to be at least a thousand. Perfect, I thought.

I tossed the now empty flaregun to the side, and picked the precision firelance off of my lap. I rested it on the windowsill, its bipod up, and reloaded it as utter chaos broke out below me. Our archers must have taken the flare as a signal to begin shooting, as a volley thumped into the Templars. It was with no small degree of grim satisfaction that I watched a gratifying number go down screaming, as I sighted my weapon.

The flare would only keep its light for a few moments, so I quickly searched the rear of the Templar formation for who I was looking for. A mounted man, with neck length hair, a pocked-face and a dirty sneer. It wasn't very hard to find him. As I expected, Denam was in the back with about twenty other mounted Templars, watching the carnage. He was shouting something as I put my crosshairs onto him. He was at about four hundred yards, almost halfway down the parade ground and the field beyond.

I took the shot, the firelance roaring a bright flame as it sent the bullet away.

Denam got caught on the left side of the upper torso, the bullet passing through his armoured breastplate with ease. I doubt it would have been so had I used any of my other weapons, barring the missile I had stowed in the basement. Alas, his body slumped over the front of the saddle, and he fell off of his horse to the ground. I smiled widely.

"Goodbye forever, you bastard!" I shouted out into the night. Step one complete.

The others looked on in shocked fascination. Not even the most skilled archer could have accomplished the feat, so not exactly surprising there. Tam even looked a bit jealous as I put the weapon back in its box, and recovered its heavy, rapid-fire cousin. The Templars were far from as complimentary.

As I took up my position again, a hail of arrows came through both windows. Two stuck in the floor next to the bed, three bounced off the wall nearest me, a few more hit the bookcase. _Travels in Ferelden Volume II_ took the brunt of the latter's damage, to Julie's dismay when she discovered it. Not one to let an insult go unpunished, I aimed my weapon again.

"Start shooting," I ordered.

"Didn't need to ask," Ciara replied from the other window.

So we proceeded.

The flarelight died, so I flicked down the heat-vision device over my eye to see what was going on. Templars were beginning to roll their battering ram forwards at an impressive speed, steered precariously through the snow but more or less towards the archway connecting directly with the open space they were on. Their own archers were attempting to provide cover, keeping up a steady barrage of volleys, no matter how many casualties it cost them. My own people were shooting back at them, rather than at the battering ram, and I saw the danger immediately.

I shifted my weight on my chair, and sent hot lead down at them.

Tracers ripped into the metal-covered wooden shields like it was paper, and six bodies appeared in the wake of the wagon. They rolled over, close enough for me to see that they had caught bullets and splinters in places ranging from the thigh to the face. Which I should have been pleased to see, except that the damned thing kept on rolling towards the archway almost entirely on its own. There couldn't have been more than two people left pushing it, but the momentum it had built up was going to be enough.

The ram slammed to a stop against the archway gate, and the Templars gave a raucous cheer in triumph, before rushing forward with their torches and what I can only presume were buckets of tar. Considering that I couldn't just drop explosives onto them, my gut turned as I realised they were certain to get inside. The close quarters fight wasn't in my favour, and I was just as likely to shoot my own people if things got mixed up. I stood up and against the wall between the windows for a moment, thinking on what to do.

"Close the shutters," I said, not wanting more arrows to come through. Good thing too, as they came just as Tam and Ciara finished doing as I had commanded. I knew I wasn't going to be much good in my bedroom, but I was reluctant to leave Julie. I glanced over at her, and my eyes fell upon my remaining mines. A plan formed.

I rushed over, slinging my firelance as I did so, and picked the mines up.

"Tam, Ciara, Leha, with me," I said quickly, "Armen, stay here and protect Julie. At all costs." The last few words meaning I didn't care if he had to summon fifty demons to accomplish it, no one was to harm her. He got the picture, and gave me a solemn nod.

We left the room and into the corridor, which was a little more crowded now. There were wounded sitting about on stools, with arrows in their shoulder or arms. As we passed towards the stairs, the sight of a dead girl with an arrow in her eye greeted us. I paused, very briefly, before cursing under my breath. I had gotten her killed, after all.

I made a beeline for McNulty and Velarana as soon as we were in the garden, waving them towards me. Their people were in good order now, formed up on each of the archways to attack the Templars in the bottlenecks. Swords and shields at the ready, mages with their magical blades formed. They came over with confidence on their faces, even as the battering ram banged at the north gate. I was glad to see their nerves were intact, but then, they couldn't see the mass of Templars trying to get in.

"Change of plan," I said, "We're going to let the Templars in."

The two looked at me like I was insane.

"Marquis, I do not think that is wise," said McNulty diplomatically, "If we hold them at the gate, we'll be able to maximise the cost to them before they even get to here." Which was entirely the correct strategy if we only had primitive weapons at our disposal. However, our arsenal was considerably more advanced than that of our opponents, and they could not anticipate all of the variables as a result.

"Pull your people back behind the small enclosure walls," I continued, "When the time comes, you charge."

"Charge into what?" Velarana asked, "A solid wall of Templar swords?"

"You'll see," I said flatly, "Now clear that archway." I pointed to the north gate, having made it clear that I meant immediately. The Knight-Enchanter and the Captain walked away to do just that. It's nice to be understood perfectly.

While the soldiers filed out of the archway, I began setting up. Tam recognised what I was doing, and put a hand on my shoulder.

"Sam, are you sure?" she asked, "Would those not bring down the building?" I was preparing the mines, high explosives, after all. I thought about it for a moment. The château looked like a well-made stone structure, but I wasn't an engineer. I supposed that the explosions could weaken things, but it might not. There wasn't much choice any way. I could see that the gate was beginning to buckle from where I was standing.

"It'll be okay," I said. Tam accepted that, though I should have added 'hopefully' to qualify it.

In a minute, I had set up the mines at intervals on both sides of the archway, facing outwards. McNulty's men were crouched behind the little walls that surrounded the garden's flowerbeds. Velarana and her mages had erected magical shields around themselves. We were ready. So were the Templars.

The gate began to smoke, set ablaze to weaken it as the ram struck again and again. The wooden began to come apart, splintering along its length, the intersection between beams widening with each strike of the ram. I ran to join Tam and Ciara behind one of the little garden walls, and took the detonators in both hands.

The Templars finally succeeding in bisecting the wooden bar that kept the whole gate intact, and the fiery pieces swung on their hinges aside. The Templars gathered to rush the archway.

"Soprano, try not to shoot us as we leave the gate," I said over the radio, "Anyone near a window might want to back off."

The enemy charged. Shield-bearers led the way, defences up and barely able to see. Behind them, I could make out the regular swordsmen. Step by step, they moved through the archway towards me. Past the little green boxes, tucked in behind the supporting arches. One almost felt sorry for them. Almost.

"Fire in the hole!" I shouted. Ducking down, I depressed the triggers as the Templars were just about to exit into the garden.

The explosion threw hot air and dust over me, its boom amplified by the acoustics of the archway. The glass panes of the inner windows rattled violently, and the ones directly opposite smashed, sending glass spinning away from them. The mages' shields flickered with blue sparks. The smell of blood and burning flesh hit my nostrils, overwhelming my senses for a second. It was not a pleasant sensation.

I stood up, firelance aimed off the hip.

The Templars were a smoking heap of flesh and metal, some of its still moving but not likely to stay that way. They had been wall-to-wall when they had reached the end, and they fell exactly as they had stood; in ranks. The effects of the shrapnel, the tearing and rending of flesh, had been joined by an exaggerated blast effect courtesy of the enclosed space. The result was the least pretty sight I had seen thus far. I looked on in unexpected horror, as did those beyond in the parade ground.

I looked at the Templars and the Templars looked at me. Their faces turned from horror to vengeful, and I remembered that I had reason to be so as well.

"Velarana," I said.

"Yes, Marquis," she said.

The Knight-Enchanter powered up her spirit blade, and waved her fellows forward. The group ran to the archway, spotted the Templars, and charged. The whole group Fade-stepped over the piles of corpses, no hesitation evident from their backs, and began fighting the Templars in close with staff-magic and magical sword.

"Shall we follow, Marquis?" McNulty asked, not enthused by the idea. Probably because doing so would mean half-wading through dead people. However, the mages would be overwhelmed if we didn't do so.

"With me!" I shouted, "Keep together!"

I broke into a run. Through the archway. Over the two hundred and thirteen bodies. We counted later.

My boots were inundated with blood, but despite several instances where I nearly slipped or tripped over, I made it to the exit. Tam and Ciara managed to follow with me, though Leha hadn't. McNulty and his big guys were close behind, practically kicking the corpses out of their way as they came through. I examined the scene before me.

Velarana's charge had made a nice mess of the Templar arrangements. Mages and Templars fought almost individual battles, the hundred or so mages taking on only a single opponent at a time, blocking off others with delaying attacks or erecting walls of ice and fire to stop them from coming. Why the Templars simply did not dispel the magic, I didn't know at the time. I thought about it aloud, not expecting I would get a response.

"Their discipline is broken," said Barris, approaching from behind with McNulty, "Without a calm mind, the process to dispel magic is impossible."

"I can hardly blame them for lacking a calm mind after that display," McNulty added, indicating back to the archway with his head, "Let's get at them." Tam gave the signal to enter the fray by drawing her longsword and dagger, and led the general advance. I followed, trying to keep to the edge of the melee, where I could best use my tools and talents.

I don't remember much about what happened after that.

It was a large blur, possibly the result of what happened afterwards, but what I can recall is a complete lack of any sensible battle line. I shot dozens of men, but had to be careful, as bullets do tend to travel through and through at short range. Dozens of ours were cut down. Sixty, to be exact, mostly the less experienced mages that we couldn't get to in time. Most of the Templar heavies were dead in the archway, so McNulty's troops were at a great advantage against the more lightly armoured survivors. The Templar continued to shoot up at the château, unable to shoot at us for fear of missing and hitting their comrades, until we closed in and they fled.

The archers fleeing started the general rout. About five hundred Templars had remained standing, the rest dead, wounded or surrendered, and they took to their heels. I called for our people to hold back, to let them flee. The survivors would have had only one conclusion to draw; that we had let them live. I hoped that would send a powerful message to their masters. We stood by and watched their backs, letting them go.

It was not to be.

The sound of a horn announced the presence of someone else in the woods. The Templars stopped dead near the end of the parade ground, looking to each other and gathering together. That told me they had no idea who was there, and it scared the living shit out of me when I began to hear horse hooves in no small numbers. Shapes began moving in the forest.

"McNulty, close formation!" I barked, "Prepare to repel cavalry!"

"CLOSE FORMATION!" he roared. The heavies moved forwards and fell in, kneeling down with their shields together. Those behind unslung crossbows, cocked them and loaded bolts before aiming them. Those in front kept their blades and spears out, pointing them forwards. They'd wait until whatever was coming came very close. Tam approached me, trying to say something about the horn calls, but she was cut off.

A dragon made of fire burst from the treetops.

Soundlessly, it flew above the canopy and glided towards the Templars. I recoiled in fear, my mind dragged back to the crash-site and Fraser's men.

In fairness to our foes, they scattered at the sight of the thing like it had been an order rather than a fear reflex, but it didn't matter. The result was as if they had been napalmed. The dragon crashed right into them, but rather than the fire disappearing or simply igniting as I had seen fire spells do before, the flames stuck to them like they had been dunked in pitch and set alight.

Hundreds of human candles ran about, screaming their lungs out until their lungs gave out. Those that weren't caught ran off in different directions, and the thumping of cavalry moving to intercept them rumbled from all around us. The smell of cooking flesh blew towards us, like bacon mixed with burning clothes. It was disgusting. I retched, and didn't know what to do, other than wait for the next fight.

"Mages, barriers," Velarana growled, "If that spell hits us without them, we're all dead."

I was briefly covered in blue, but the effect shattered like glass in an instant. It was quite noticeable too, as many eyes tracked to me as a result. I sighed wearily, and turned to the Knight-Enchanter with a shrug.

"This immunity isn't all good news," I said to her, "I'll stand in front."

"I'm going with you," Tam said immediately. I knew there was no point arguing. I pointed for Ciara to remain behind however. Armen would never forgive me if I got her killed. She obeyed, though with a pout.

I stepped forward a dozen yards in front of our formation, Tam beside me. She switched quickly to her bow, as more shapes began moving. I admit to flinching as well. Not as much as I did when I saw what came out into the open.

Lights began flicking on, revealing those hiding. They were mages, which was obvious because the lights were definitely not torches. They had a blueish-green hue. There were banners too, though I couldn't make out what was on them. The wind had died down. The newcomers were all mounted, but not in a way I had ever seen before. They were mounted on dracolisks, which is exotic to someone from Thedas but utterly disturbing to someone from Earth. It looked to me like they were riding four-legged velociraptors. I took a step back, the urge to run the fuck away beating down on me like a ton of bricks. Once again, Tam stopped me.

"Tevinter," she said, hardly believing her own eyes.

Not sure if I had heard her correctly, I stepped forward again.

"What, you mean the slavers?" I asked, "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely," Tam replied, not moving her eyes from the approaching thirty or so mages.

"What do we do?" I asked, "Are they here to kill us?" Tam was the resident expert on the subject of the Imperium after all, having helped to fight Tevinter for years. The Qunari simply shook her head however.

"I don't even know why they're here," she said, "How are they this far south!"

The 'Vints approached at a swift but casual pace, displaying no sign of hostility. Almost none of them seemed to be armed with any physical weapons, only staves. That made me more confident, given that they couldn't hurt me, though what they were riding probably could. The one person who was armed with a sword was an old man, dressed in what would pass for a jester costume on Earth, in dark colours. He was clearly in charge too, as some of those around him kept looking to him as if waiting to be instructed.

The old man said something, and the group stopped dead. The lizard-mounts hissed a little, but complied. He approached us on his own, until he was close enough to talk without shouting. The wind died down suddenly, which was a little disturbing.

"That's close enough," I said to him, holding my hand up for him to halt. He rode forward a few more steps, until I got a hold of my firelance's grip. That got him stopping very fast, which intrigued me. He had some idea that it was a weapon, evidently.

"Are you the Marquis de la Fayette?" he asked with a warm smile on his face, illuminated by the tip of his staff, "The Peacekeeper?"

I wondered if my reputation could have possibly spread as far as Tevinter in a month. In fact, it didn't need to. Still, my curiosity did get the better of me.

"I am," I replied, "What is it to you?"

The man's smile got bigger, like he had found an old friend. That was very strange to me. I frowned back at him, which didn't stop him in the slightest.

"I am Titus Tiberius Pansa, military attaché to the Tevinter Embassy to Orlais. I've been looking for you," he said, "Or rather, someone like you."

"Someone like me?" I asked, "What, a peacekeeper?" The way he had said it made me think he wanted something from me. I sincerely hoped he didn't plan to ask me to try and fight the Qunari on behalf of the Imperium.

"A person of unique talents," the old man replied, "We have much to discuss, you and I." That set off all the warnings in my head. I raised my firelance by reflex. He chuckled.

"I don't intend to be your stooge, or your experiment," I growled. He held his hands up, still laughing to himself a little.

"I don't intend to make you one or the other," he replied, "I have something entirely else in mind. May we talk inside? The South really is cold in winter." He rubbed his gloved hands together, as if to illustrate the issue he was having. I tilted my head, leaning towards telling him to go eat a boot somewhere. Yet again, Tam intervened.

"Why should we trust you?" she said, "You're Tevinter."

The old man's smile died, probably because he recognised what Tam was. She did have a helmet on, after all, so the only way she was going to be recognised was if someone looked a little more closely. That pissed me off a little, even though it was a fair presumption.

"I see the Qunari have already gotten to you," he said, his smile returning, "But I doubt you will be running off to Par Vollen any time soon, or you would have done so already."

"I am no longer a follower of the Qun," Tam replied, before I could say anything, "Now answer the question. Why should we trust you?"

The old man nodded, conceding the point. "Perhaps I have something that can convince you," he said, before he began rummaging around in a large saddlebag strapped to the rump of his dracolisk. The mount stared at me with glowing orange eyes, inspecting me as a piece of meat. I took another step back, coming level with Tam. It didn't seem at all bothered by the cold, which seemed strange to me. Of course, they're related to dragons, only the very worst cold would bother them.

A minute later, and the old man had a cloth in his hands.

"Perhaps this will convince you," he said, beginning to unfurl it. I was barely paying attention at first, his mount's dead-eyed stare distracting me, but when I returned my full gaze to what he was doing, my jaw almost fell from my head. He held out the cloth in front of him, like it was a prize. I suppose to him, it was.

It was a large flag, and one immediately familiar to me. A red sun centred on a white field, with red sunbeams streaming out of it in all directions. The war flag of the Imperial Japanese Army. A flag from seventy-five years in the past, from Earth. I knew then that I had to speak to him.

"Okay, Titus Tiberius Pansa," I said, lowering my firelance, "You have my attention."

The old man smiled again.

"Please, call me Tiberius," he said to me.

 

 


	46. Truth

Our troops nervously escorted the Tevinter delegation and I to the château. It turned out the horsemen in the woods were a mix of magical soldiers, and mercenaries from the Free Marches paid to escort the 'Vints and fight on their behalf. They set up camp on the parade ground, leaving me to wonder just what sort of country Orlais was if it let foreign powers operate so freely on its soil. Of course, that is a harsh evaluation. It was the middle of a particularly bad winter, and the nobles who could have intervened were in Halamshiral. Besides, avoiding diplomatic incidents with Tevinter was something of a concern for Orlais, given how divided it was at that moment in time.

While my mind burned with a desire to interrogate Tiberius and his mages, all of whom were dressed like armoured clowns or jesters to my eye, I had a more pressing concern. Julie's injuries were still very much at the forefront of my attentions, and Tam shared that sentiment entirely. Both of us hurried off after we had agreed to allow the meeting to take place without much more words.

McNulty's people were set to dealing with the dead, stripping armour and weapons, dragging the large number of corpses out of the north archway. Both the delegation and ourselves avoided that route, entering via the western passage instead. The stench of blood and guts was extremely pungent in the air regardless, and I found myself retching a little as we entered the garden. I reminded myself to have the mages purge the passageways with ice and fire.

The garden itself was a hive of activity. Wounded people were being moved up, and the civilians were being moved down from the upper levels again, helped by Soprano's people. Soldiers with their longbows slung carried stretchers or held people by the shoulder as they ascended the stairs on one side. On the other, startled children were pulled along by their relieved parents, most of whom were still armed themselves. Their resilience was impressive.

The Captain herself was with Mike, waiting to report in the middle of the four paths that crossed the inner courtyard. Knowing I wouldn't be climbing past the evacuation of the attics, I walked over to them. They saluted, and I quickly returned the gesture, calming my heart's desire to tear through the crowd to the bedroom.

"We've sent people to watch over the woods," said Soprano, her eyes flicking quickly to the Tevinter delegation, "Everyone else is helping people get back to their homes." Pleased that she had taken control in such a competent fashion, I nodded approvingly.

"Excellent work," I replied, "Anyone who lost their home to the fires can sleep here, as long as there's room. I'm sure the wounded will need space." There was no shortage of WIA, and the healers were already at it. There was a strange hum in the air, if you strained your ears to hear it over the other activity.

"What about the Tevinter mages?" Barris asked. The Templar looked at the subject of his worries with nearly unrestrained hate, but his eyes were full of worries when they moved to me. Considering he had seen what I could do, I found the question a little pointless. If they started trouble, I intended to end them. Furthermore, it seemed to me that the 'Vints themselves knew what I could do, and looked like they were behaving.

Unfortunately, the Templar had spoken within earshot of others.

"What about them?" said Tiberius, in a mixed tone of curiosity and contempt. Which coupled with his haughty, Tevinter accent was a bit amusing. Not unlike the clothing he was wearing, which was revealed to be a deep blue colour, but still looked like something more suitable for the circus than the Magisterium. I swear, before I came along, the entirety of Tevinter looked like a funeral procession or a colourful farce. Earth fashion being an unintended consequence of my arrival, albeit a later one.

Barris was far from shy about expressing his concern either. "Unlike the mages here, you've been taught to misuse your abilities," he said, "It's dangerous, even with the Marquis' presence." Perhaps it would have been. The unspoken objection was obvious, of course. Barris was displeased to have mages associated with the Imperial Chantry around, mages who did not submit to the Divine of its southern cousin. We had no 'hedge' mages nor Tevinter-born ones, so even the Libertarians' attitude towards magic was restrained, which helped later but bred contempt for those who didn't share the opinion.

"I am a magister," Tiberius smiled, while seeming threatening nonetheless, "I have come for an extremely important purpose, and all of my subordinates know it. They would not defy me and live." He turned to walk away.

"And besides, we both know that the Marquis could quite comfortably kill us all himself," the old man said, before striding away to talk to his people. My eyebrow raised itself. It seemed to me like he was putting a lot of faith in unverified reports. He wasn't, in fact.

Barris stormed off on his own to talk to Velarana, presumably about being prepared to fight the 'Vints if it came to it. Annoyed by his behaviour, but not wishing to have an argument about it, I let him go. Leha approached, hands behind her head and a scowl on her face.

"We're lucky all of this happened when it did," she said, kicking a stone away, "Otherwise we'd be set back a huge number of coins as well as the people we lost. Should've been more careful." I hmmed my agreement with that. Measures would have to be taken.

"It's been a terrible night," Ciara said, "I'm getting sick of seeing so much blood." That sent a bolt of guilt through me. I turned away from her, not wanting to meet her eyes.

"Get used to it," Tam replied, "All three of us know where Julie is taking us. Orlais will come, and we will fight." Leha nodded, moving her hands to her hips.

"For someone who wrote a thing called 'common sense', she sure doesn't seem to have a lot of it," the dwarf mused, "She's a genius for pity's sake, could make herself as rich as an Antivan prince if she wanted to." I wasn't sure just how rich that was, but it was true nonetheless. Leha would steer her towards it at every opportunity, which actually benefited Julie's less mercenary motivations to a considerable degree. Adam Smith would be proud to hear it, I think.

"Do me a favour," I said to Leha, "Distract the Tevinter people while we go see her? And go see a healer yourself for Christ's sake." Leha smiled, having a look at the wound she received by an arrow. It didn't seem to be bothering her too much, though she winced when she turned the arm too quickly. Ciara stuck out her tongue between her teeth with disgust, not wanting to think about being stuck like the dwarf had. They quickly departed, Ciara dragging Leha towards the nearest mage. Which happened to be Velarana.

Tam and I climbed the stairs and bolted through the corridors, which were clear of people now, at a near-sprint. It was hard, considering that the floors were wet and muddy from the traffic they had seen in the hour before, but we managed. Together, we burst into our bedroom.

Julie was still unconscious and sweating still more profusely on the bed, her upper body covered with a light blanket. The healer was on a stool beside her, observing with a studied and neutral expression, but not doing his magical thing. Armen was by the right-side window, looking out at the Tevinter camp as we entered before moving towards the bed when he noticed us. His face looked grim, and I prayed it was only because he distrusted the 'Vints.

"How is she?" I asked.

The healer looked up at us, and frowned deeply. A finger stuck out towards Tam.

"You," he said, "Clean yourself up." The finger moved to a bucket and cloth at his feet. Tam was covered in gore, having hacked no small number of Templars to death with sword and dagger a little while earlier. Understandably, that wasn't the best thing around a sick person. The Qunari obeyed, wasting no time in beginning to strip off, dumping her bloodstained Earth-panoply by the doorway and taking off the undershirt, leaving her exposed from the waist up and still covered in blood. She began to clean herself. The mere suggestion that her state could have harmed Julie's recovery was enough to send her into action. Strangely, I felt a sense of pride about her.

The healer turned back to Julie.

"The Marquise's flesh is fully healed," he said, placing a hand on Julie's forehead to check her temperature, "But I fear the fever will be worse than I had predicted before. The arrow may have been deliberately dirtied to encourage this. There is nothing I can do but wait, and occasionally apply my arts to relieve her. It is best if she stays asleep for this process."

Disbelieving the man as he had said exactly what I didn't want to hear, I looked to Armen for confirmation. He was the closest thing to an expert on magic that I knew I could rely on, and if there was a slim chance to help, I knew he'd know about it. The mage inclined his head, indicating that he was with the healer on this. I clenched my fist. I would have to use the antibiotics we had brought from Earth, something so valuable as to be utterly priceless. I turned to leave, to run to the basement to retrieve the medicine as fast as my legs could carry me, but was confronted by the sight of Tiberius standing just outside in the corridor.

The magister strolled into the room, staff tapping off the floor in sync with his footsteps, every sign of interest in what was going on over his face. His eyes went from right to left, scanning everyone in the room. Armen and the healer backed away as they caught his gaze, so uncomfortable with his presence they both were. Julie wasn't exactly in any position to react. Yet. I crossed my arms to display my displeasure. Finally, his eyes came to rest on the bare-breasted Tam, who had frozen in place half way through scrubbing with a frown on her face.

Tiberius smirked, and his head swivelled back to the patient on the bed.

"I presume this is the infamous Julie Marteau," he said, moving level with me, "I was hoping to meet her, just so I could have something to talk about with those extremely tedious Orlesian courtiers that seem to inhabit every corner of their Winter Palace."

Tam found her curved dagger from somewhere and took a pace forward, but I was able to forestall her in time. She growled to herself, retreating to near the cabinet and beginning to get dressed again. Glad I had stopped her, I breathed a sigh of relief before turning back to the magister.

"Well, she's a little busy almost dying right now," I said sarcastically, "The Templars wounded her."

"I can see that. Without further treatment, she will most likely die," he said, not taking my hostility to heart, "Perhaps I can help." Surprised he would offer, I felt a surge of hope after the grave prognosis he had given seconds before. He was an extremely powerful mage. I wasn't thinking particularly straight. Neither was Tam. Her grip on my arm to warn me relieved itself instantly.

"That would be great," I said quickly, "What do you need?"

The question brought a strange, almost troubled expression in return. He glanced at the healer disapprovingly, like he knew there would be trouble. That should have been the first clue, but I wasn't a magical theorist or a mage myself. The healer scowled back, but seemingly too afraid to say anything. Tiberius did dominate the room like that, in a way I've only ever seen Julie or the Empress Celene accomplish. Helped that he was an inch taller than I was, I guess.

"Clear the room," he replied at last, "Other than that, I have everything I need."

"I'm staying," Tam said immediately, in a fashion that would brook no counterpoint.

"So am I," Armen added, almost as an afterthought.

That wasn't what I wanted to hear.

"Get out," I said through my teeth to both mages, "Now." The healer responded quickly, already well aware of how quickly my wrath would grow a hole in his head. Armen looked at me with sadness, one born of pity at the extent I wanted to see Julie awake and healthy again. My soul wasn't fully my own anymore, I have to admit. Too many things had happened, and I had shared them all with both Tam and Julie.

Of course, the only way I could have removed Tam was by shooting her and I knew I had no right to ask that of her in the first place. Besides, if it all went wrong, she was the only person I would have been able to be with. So she stayed. At an arm's distance to the magister, no less, dagger at the ready. I was grateful that she hadn't complained about the others leaving.

Tiberius for his part had respectfully lowered his head, waiting for that business to be over with, before closing the doors and locking them. He moved to the side of the bed, and produced a long needle from a pocket in his tunic. Thinking it was for Julie, both Tam and I flinched to our weapons, but he held it in his palm while he took off one of his warm winter gloves, revealing a well manicured hand. We relaxed.

"I would appreciate if you didn't tell your mages or any local clerics about what you're going to see," Tiberius said, bringing the pin between his thumb and his forefinger, "It would not benefit anyone, not least yourselves." He removed the blanket covering Julie, and grimaced at the arrow wounds.

Before I could respond, Tiberius poked himself gently but firmly on his wrist opposite, drawing a small stream of blood. I could only wonder what the hell he was trying to do. My first thought that he intended to do a blood transfusion, which would probably have helped considering Julie had lost some blood, but how it was meant to fight an infection was beyond me. I recoiled as he squeezed the wound, drawing still more out.

"What are..." I started, but was interrupted as he began to weave magic.

The blood poured from his wrist and formed a snake like formation, hovering in the air above Julie and glowing. It grew and grew, until he sealed the wound magically with a small gasp of pain. Tam looked shell-shocked, whereas my confusion was complete. How did this help Julie, I could not help but think. I would be joining Tam in shock soon enough.

The snake coiled itself, the 'head' turning into a thin spike not unlike that of the pin used to draw it out, and shot towards Julie's back sharply. It buried itself between her wounds, entering fully and disappearing leaving only a small bruise. I couldn't believe my eyes. The magister wasn't done yet.

Tiberius placed his bare hand on her back, and a red glow emanated from it of the sort I associated with healing. The glow seemed to extend through Julie's skin from the spot he touched, until it covered her whole body. I looked closer, and could see that it was patterned as if it was following her veins and arteries. The realisation clicked in my head. The magister was using blood magic.

As I stepped around the bed to stop him, Tiberius stopped himself. He removed his hand and the glowing died away in a second. Whatever he had attempted was done. Tam and I practically jumped to see if Julie was better. I put my hand on her forehead, and it was more cool than it had been. I nodded to Tam, and smiled widely. We both began to laugh a little. Julie was saved.

"A blood magic technique I developed myself," Tiberius explained, putting his glove back on, "When I was a younger man, I saw many a good mage die from the fevers after surviving the wounds. After I inherited my father's seat at the top of our society, I threw myself into extensive research in how to counteract them. Not something you'd learn from a southerner, I assure you."

"Thank you," I blurted out, unable to say anything else.

"You are most welcome," Tiberius replied warmly, "We can talk in the morning. She's waking up, and I am sure you have some explaining to do." Quite the understatement.

Sure enough, Julie was stirring. Tam quickly brought the blanket around her again, which was wise given that the cold had been let in entirely through all the open windows during the battle. Tiberius opened the doors and exited without another word, leaving us to talk to her. A wise decision on his part.

Finally, Julie awoke and rose unsteadily onto her palms. "What happened?" she asked groggily, "Are we safe?"

"We won," I smiled, "We'll explain everything."

Julie blinked a few times, looked at us and then at herself.

"Why am I naked and covered in blood?" she asked.

Tam and I couldn't help but laugh, bringing her into our arms. She was definitely going to live.

* * *

The process of explaining everything took quite a while, so much so that it was almost three in the morning by the time we got to sleep. Replacing the blood-soaked sheets and mattress didn't exactly help in that regard, but at least the noise of the wounded had largely died down. Word got out that the lady of the house (one of them anyway) was awake and alive, which lifted spirits among those still awake.

Julie didn't have anything to say about the arrival of Tiberius and his people, though I could see the cogs of her mind turning when she received the news, hand on chin no less, as she chewed on some bread to get her strength back. No doubt considering how the development fit into her own hugely ambitious political machinations. I could not help but be impressed and terrified at how quickly she moved from a relatively poor tax-dodging blacksmith to someone very much the master of her own fate.

It does help to be a genius, though.

Tam inspected both Julie and I to insure we were okay, something she would continue to do after every risky situation from this point onwards, and we washed ourselves before falling asleep. I was utterly exhausted, and drifted off almost instantly with Julie lodged between me and Tam. She wasn't going anywhere, that was for sure.

Scandalously, I awoke at midday, bolting upright when a stray beam of light glanced over my eyes from the window.

It was a lot later than the time I had wanted to get up at, and I was surprised that no one had knocked on the door before then. Afraid that the Tevinter delegation was waiting, I climbed out of the bed, which we had returned to its former place by the left-side window, and began getting dressed in a fresh uniform. I nudged the other two to get up as an afterthought.

Julie opened her eyes first, and raised herself as if she hadn't been asleep at all. She gasped as she placed her bare feet on the cold wooden floor, but tolerated the sensation, tiptoeing over to the place where the clothes and boots were. I watched her as I put my beret on, curious as to what she was doing. She quickly began dressing in a pair of desert-pattern pants, a sand-coloured t-shirt and finally, a British Army jacket that was a little too big for her. To finish it off, she tied her long hair back and donned a khaki beret. In short, she looked similar to how I did by the time she was finished.

I was baffled, tilting my head at her to try and get her to explain. "What are you trying to achieve with that?" I asked, as she pulled on the boots formerly belonging to me.

"I'm meeting the magister with you," Julie said, looking at me like I was slightly dumb, "I thought it best to look official."

I really didn't want her to come, because whatever Tiberius wanted, I doubted she would approve. And Julie wasn't one to express her disapproval diplomatically. Tevinter's systematic slavery wouldn't help matters either, a thing so repugnant to Julie's sensibilities as to merit no time to speak to people who benefited from it at all. The argument that would have erupted had I expressed my reluctance would have been far worse however, and quite rightly so as I had no real reason to exclude her, so I sighed my compliance with her plan. Besides, she looked god damn good in uniform.

"Tam, are you coming?" I asked.

"If I see that _saarebas_ again, I'll end up trying to kill him," she informed us politely, before putting a pillow over her head, leaving only her horns and hair visible from behind it. Blood mages were only for killing, in her mind. Julie had more ambivalence, given that that class of magic had quite possibly saved her life.

"Fair enough," I replied, shrugging at Julie as she smirked, "Let's go."

So we did. The outer corridor was warmer than I thought it would be, before I remembered that I had allowed people to stay in the château's other rooms. All the fireplaces must have been going, including the ones downstairs. The dirt had dried on the floor, staining the wood in a dried riverbed along the middle of the long space, but it wasn't anything that a bit of mopping wouldn't solve. No one else was around. I guessed there was too much healing and mourning to be done for there to be a swarm of activity. We descended to the garden with no interference, where we found Leha and Ciara looking for us. It smelled a lot less like blood, thank God.

"There you are," Leha stated flatly, her face telling that she was about to start a rant, "The Tevinters are waiting in the ball room. Cheeky buggers had me fetch your flag, something about it being an official diplomatic meeting between two noble houses. Was tempted to tell them to shove their orders where the sun doesn't shine, but Armen just told me to get on with it before storming off. I swear, the mages getting uppity like this is why you surface-types put them down in the first place." The dwarf took a breath, before eyeing me sharply for a response. The ballroom was one of two such rooms, and the one we hadn't converted to storage.

"Well, you'd be a little arrogant too, if you could shoot fire from your fingertips?" I said cautiously, thinking that she was arrogant enough without that ability, "Who's in there exactly?"

"The big shem, a not-so-big one, and some scary-looking masked guards," Ciara reported cheerily in her lyrical accent, amused at Leha's annoyance, "Only five of them in there at the moment. Wish they'd all go away." That was encouraging, because it was far fewer than would be needed to overcome Julie and I, even without our handcannons.

"Good," I said, "We'll go in on our own."

"McNulty told me to tell you that the preparations for the pyres has started," Leha added, "And that there won't be enough wood or fuel for all the bodies unless we use some we've saved for the winter." I frowned, not pleased at that news. I would have just ordered burials instead, but when I had suggested that before at the Wolf's Lair, everyone went crazy, fearing that spirits would decide to hijack the corpses. It sounded idiotically superstitious to me, but considering I had met a spirit, I wasn't taking any chances.

"Fetch Velarana from wherever she's hiding, and tell her to get a team of mages together with some skill with fire," I said to Leha, "That'll save us some money and effort." Appealing to the dwarf's sensitivity to monetary problems was wise, as Leha gave me a big satisfied smile in return, sauntering off to do what I had asked. Ciara decided to tag along, no doubt disliking the idea of hanging around 'Vint mages. Not sure I can blame her.

With little else to do, I wordlessly walked to the door of the ballroom with Julie and entered.

The place was as bare as I remembered from the first inspection I had done, save for the large table stuck down to one end of the large space with a smattering of chairs. These were now occupied, at least those at the head of the table, by Tiberius, a younger man of twenty-something and three masked mages. They were having a lunch of bread, cheese and some sliced meat. Behind them, the flag of the United Nations and the banner of the Tevinter Imperium hung on footsteps echoed on the floor, bringing the attention of our guests to us. The magister smiled warmly again as he noticed, and waved us over like he was a natural part of the settlement. Bemused, we complied.

"Ah Marquis, finally," said Tiberius, "Your people have been most hospitable, but I was beginning to wonder if we were ever going to get the chance to talk before I leave." Implying that they had to leave soon, which lightened the weight on my heart caused by their presence.

"You killed many men who were trying to kill them," I replied, "Glad to see that you're making yourself at home." Now that I was sure it wouldn't be a lengthy arrangement.

"And the famous commoner Marquise, Julie Marteau," Tiberius continued, standing from his meal, "We have met before, but you were somewhat... indisposed? Allow me to formally introduce myself. I am Titus Tiberius Pansa, military attaché to the Tevinter ambassador in Orlais." He rose from his seat, took Julie's hand and planted a modest kiss on her knuckles, which didn't impress her much but was still very much expected of nobles of any rank.

"Thank you for saving my life," she replied politely, "I understood you took some risk in doing it." Meaning using blood magic in a land where that got you burned alive or hacked to death by Templars. I certainly wasn't going to be the one to inform Barris.

"Think nothing of it, it was my pleasure to aid the Marquis in any way I could," the magister replied, taking his seat again, "After all, I needed to make a good impression." If I knew why that was so, I maybe would not have allowed it. I still would have had the antibiotics as an option, and Tevinter meddling has had mixed results for me in the years since, to say the least.

"Good to know I'm worthy of a good impression," I said, sitting down.

"Oh, this is Gaius, by the way," Tiberius said, looking over his shoulder to the young man dressed similarly to him, "My eldest grandson, and an accomplished battlemage in his own right."

I nodded a greeting, and only got a stare back. There was a strong family resemblance, though the magister's grey hair was a striking difference to the dark black hair of the grandson. The former was also undoubtedly taller than the latter. Unusually for a mage, Gaius carried a sword. Of a type I was familiar with, but we'll get to that.

"Centurion, I think you can wait outside," Tiberius said to the nearest masked mage. The man turned and walked away to the door we had entered from, flanked by his two subordinates, one of whom carried the Tevinter banner. They left with no sign of an opinion on why their commander would be hanging around in the middle of the Dales, talking to two infamous people.

"There we are," the magister said, "Now we can speak more openly, don't you think?" Or more secretly, I thought.

"Grandfather, I must tell you again that I do not think it wise that we are here," Gaius said, "We can still leave." Curiouser and curiouser.

Tiberius laughed it off, earning a frown from his grandson.

"You'll have to excuse Gaius, he thought you were a myth for much of his life," the magister explained, "He wasn't very pleased when he discovered that his scepticism was wrong." My patience for the game he was playing ran out sharply.

"Are you going to you tell me where you got that flag?" I asked, "That's the only reason you're here." That the particular pattern of a rising sun existed could have been a coincidence, but someone using it to make an appeal to a man from Earth couldn't be. I needed to know where he got it. Perhaps there was a portal of some kind back home, I kept thinking.

Tiberius examined me for a moment, before replying.

"Your hostility is interesting," he said, "I suppose you've heard all the scare stories about my homeland. Blood mages run amok." I had heard that, but that wasn't the primary problem I had with the country. Nor was it Julie's.

"The slavery might put him off a little more," Julie said harshly, "That you're alive at all is down to you saving my life. Otherwise, I'd have killed you myself."

"I am certain you would have tried," Tiberius smiled in response, "Alas, I did save your life, so here we are."

"Do you own slaves?" Julie asked, pressing her point home by pulling out her handcannon.

"Yes, many," Tiberius replied, "But none of them serve me involuntarily."

"What does that mean?" said Julie, not believing him, "They're slaves."

"They weren't born as slaves," Tiberius continued, as if talking to a know-it-all pupil, "I don't find the buying and selling of slaves to be immoral, but I find that slaves that are bought and sold have no real loyalty to their masters. So I offer positions in my household to the poor, provided they become my slaves. People whose families would have starved to death in the street get food, shelter and education. I get loyalty, loyalty I can enforce by law if necessary but loyalty earned by esteem rather than force. My household is the most secure in the Imperium as a result. Necessary, considering the secrets I have to keep contained."

Clearly, he had thought this through. Not that I was happy to hear he only recruited slaves as opposed to buying them. In fact, I wanted to blast his head, but he had shown no hostility and there was the small matter of the consequences of killing a diplomat to consider. I could certainly believe that slaves were a liability for security, and I have profited from that problem myself since.

"Most slaves don't object to slavery generally," Tiberius added with a frown, "Only their place within it."

"I think we're getting off topic," I said firmly, brooking no further argument, "Tell me where you got the flag or I'm having you ejected from the estate."

"Lieutenant Keijiro Okuba," Tiberius responded immediately, "I doubt you know who he is, but I am sure you know where he is from."

"Earth," I said, "Japan. _Nippon_ in their language, I think." A country made up of a set of islands on the eastern most edge of the largest continent, and one of the most advanced nations on Earth.

"Indeed," said Tiberius, "I met Keijiro in a swamp on Seheron seventy-five years ago."

He reached for a large bag, opened it, and began laying down the contents. The warflag with the sunbeams was first, followed by a larger _hinomaru_ with just the sun. After that, two firelances, one long and one short automatic one, a small handcannon, a bayonet, a curved sword, a set of binoculars, a set of insignia, a journal and a set of letters. All of which I had seen before, either in person or via the technology of my world.

"A Nambu," I said, picking up the pistol, "My great grandfather had one of these." I set it down again, when Tiberius grinned knowingly at me. Which was a little off-putting.

Julie picked up the long firelance, and opened the bolt, inspecting every inch of it. It was an inferior design to my own precision firelance, but she took in the details to memory anyway. She probably knew more about the design after a few minutes than I ever would anyway. Something occurred to me, as I looked over the items again.

"Seventy five years ago would make you, what? Ninety-something years old?" I asked, "You don't look that old." He didn't even look sixty, in fact.

"Magic," said Julie, still unimpressed, "Probably blood magic."

"Actually, a good diet and healthy living have as much to do with it," Tiberius replied with false graveness, "But yes, there was more than a little magic involved. And don't worry, Gaius here is just as old as he looks. I spent most of my youthful years on the battlefield, you see." He got started on his own family late, apparently. Not uncommon for male Tevinter citizens from military families, I would learn.

"How did this Keijiro guy get to Thedas?" I asked, "Did he speak Common?"

"Keijiro got here the same way you did, through the Fade, and he spoke only broken Common at first," Tiberius responded, "Never got his head around Tevene."

So he was sucked through the Fade at some point, probably during the great war that provoked the creation of the United Nations. I doubt he would recognise the country he left behind, if he had lived to see it on the day I myself was taken from Earth.

"Out of curiosity, may I ask what country are you from?" His face was that of polite inquiry, so I felt no need to hide it.

"The United States of America," I replied, using the full title for effect, "Why?" Tiberius nodded, like a guess of his had been correct.

"The great enemy," the magister said, "Keijiro spoke of your homeland many times, in the early years. Seldom afterwards, unless he was drunk."

I snorted at that. I had trained with Japanese soldiers at one point. Like I said, things had changed. "Actually, our countries are very close allies now," I replied, "Japan was utterly defeated, but we needed them to recover so we could defend against the Soviet Union." I was testing to see just how much he knew. The answer was 'too much'.

"Keijiro was more contemptuous of the Russians," said Tiberius, his eyes looking upwards as he remembered, "He was fond of telling the history of his country, almost as if it was a epic story of characters. I knew his perspective was partial when he spoke of the decadence of your country." No doubts there.

"You say you met him on Seheron?" I asked, "Is there a way back to Earth there?" That would have been a complete bitch to get to, but I would have attempted to bring as many as wanted to come.

Tiberius shook his head. I had already been told that there was no way back, but thought perhaps that the magister knew of one. "Keijiro died in the summer," he said, "Of old age. He refused all magical treatment throughout his life, you see, unless he wasn't awake to object. And it wouldn't have worked at any rate. Strange, considering all the fighting he went through. He refused to leave Seheron for twenty years, and fought by my side the whole time, looking for a way back no matter what I told him. When I first met him, he was knee deep in twelve Qunari corpses, bleeding badly from a wound between his legs but still standing, the blood of the savages on his bayonet and pooled around him."

Of course, having a superior weapon probably helped greatly, but even still, that was an impressive feat. I was glad that Tam wasn't there to hear him refer to her former people as savages though, and even I found it objectionable. Savages do bad things, sure, but they don't build empires. However, it was not objectionable enough to say so. He had answers I needed.

"This is very interesting," said Julie, laying the long firelance across her lap, "But why are you here?"

Tiberius leaned back in his chair, considering how to broach the subject. Gaius scoffed from behind, rolling his eyes at his grandfather's supposed reluctance. I still had no idea what his problem was, though I would learn soon enough.

"Just tell him what you want," the younger Tiberius said, "Skirting around it won't help you convince him."

"No, but he'll want to understand why regardless," the elder Tiberius snapped, "You're too much like your father, impetuous!" The grandson stared defiantly back, until the magister turned around to us again.

"So? What's the big deal?" I asked.

"Keijiro and you are not the only people from your world to come here," Tiberius said, with some reluctance, "Our ancestors are responsible, I'm afraid." He braced himself, as if to receive personal blame, but I had none for him. Perhaps the Japanese lieutenant had blamed him, at first.

"How?" I asked, surprising him with my apparent grace. His eyes softened again. He was beginning to like me, as opposed to being amiable out of a desire to get something out of me. Whatever that was.

"Two thousand years ago, a mere handful of decades after the foundation of the Tevinter Imperium, my family grew concerned about the elves and their power," Tiberius began, "You understand that the elves once possessed a mighty empire of their own, yes?"

I nodded.

"Well, it was founded on magical power, much like our own," the magister continued, "The various cousins of the family at the time came together to deal with this problem they saw on the horizon, as well as increase their own standing in the Imperium itself. They were of a middling rank at the time, heavily involved with the army and the nascent magical academies, but were not of the magisterium."

Tiberius paused to drink some water, and I indicated with my hand for him to continue, so that he knew I was listening. He thanked me and began again.

"They sought power, and for a mage, there is only one source of power; the Fade," he said, "So they sought to breach the Fade."

Julie slammed her palm down on the table hard, shaking the plates and cups loudly with the impact.

"Ha! I knew it!" she said, "If your people were trying to enter the Fade before, then the magisters _were_ responsible for the Blights!" Tiberius frowned. It was an old point of contention between the South and the North, whether or not Tevinter was responsible for bringing about the archdemons' plagues.

"I do not know the truth of that," Tiberius replied, "I doubt anyone was responsible for that, except for the old gods themselves. I believe this way because of what _did_ happen five hundred years before the Golden City was supposedly breached. _If you'll let me continue_..."

Julie pouted a little, but agreeing with a wave of her hand, she let the point stand.

"Regardless, the first recorded blood sacrifice by a human conclave of mages was made, in the western hills near the edge of the Imperium's current borders where no one could interfere. The Fade was breached," Tiberius continued, "Every mage in attendance felt their power surge, but then something went horribly wrong. We know not how exactly, but the power they were gaining returned to the Fade, and a person was flung from the portal before it finally closed itself." By this point, I was truly enraptured by the tale. The ones with truth in them often do that, and I could tell the magister believed every word to be true. In a sense, I was living proof that it was true, and so was Keijiro.

"He was clothed in segmented plate armour and a red cloak," Tiberius said gravely, "And he was not pleased to be there. My ancestors' cousins were stunned to see him, and enraged that their plan failed. They attacked him, most unwisely. For if they had paid any heed of what had happened, they would have known that the reason for their failure was that he was immune to magic."

"Just like Sam," Julie said, "He must have..."

"Yes, the man slaughtered all of them but one," Tiberius confirmed, "His sword fell upon them with a terrible fury. Thirty two of my ancestor's cousins, slain. No matter what magical arts were unleashed against him, the man... _the soldier_... walked through it like it was nothing but rain. The thirty-third was to join the others, until her mask fell off. The killing stopped instantly."

I knew a romantic side track when I heard one.

"Let me guess," I said, "She was beautiful, he threw aside his sword, they worked out their differences."

Tiberius laughed. "You have it exactly, Marquis," he said, "He spoke Ancient Tevene, by some bizarre coincidence. She felt a terrible guilt for bringing him to Thedas, and he was alone in the world. It was simply a practical arrangement at first, but they came to love each other. She took his name, becoming Lucia Tiberia Major, the mother of my family's entire bloodline, and he named the estate that became my birthplace, Trevevorum. They built it on the exact spot where he had arrived."

He was a Roman legionnaire, I realised. The red cloak, the armour, the killing, all of it. That might explain the expansionism of Tevinter to some extent, depending on just how influential Tiberius' family had been. I have written extensively about the influences that produced American civilisation elsewhere, and to those who are familiar with that work, you will know the scale of Rome's achievements. Tevinter, I often think, would be the result if Rome had been ruled by mages instead of ordinary men. Alas, I am getting off point, and so was Tiberius.

"What has this got to do with Sam?" Julie said impatiently, "I keep asking that, and you keep going into longwinded stories."

"I have to agree there," I said, the trance broken for the moment.

Tiberius held up his hands, as if urging us to wait for it.

"Tiberia had three children, one of whom is my direct ancestor," he said, "The match proved to be incredibly potent. The children were some of the most powerful mages ever seen in Thedas, and my ancestor became the first of my family to sit on the Magisterium. We believe that your direct contact with the Fade seems to gather its power, but it cannot affect you as there is no magic in your world. So it remains dormant, except in a very specific set of circumstances. So, for the past two thousand years, my family has sought out more of your kind, as they are periodically removed from Earth and brought here, and there have been many."

"Has your family found any of, whatever you call us?" I asked, "And how periodically are we talking about?"

"We call your kind outlanders, and we have never found any alive until Keijiro. He was injured, making our use of his power impossible," Tiberius said, shaking his head, "The translation from one world to another seems to occur randomly. When a new arrival comes, the Fade flares in my estate, pointing the direction to where the next traveller has arrived. It takes extensive calculation to figure out where even vaguely. We believe most of the outlanders arrive outside of the known world, and perhaps most of those have drowned in the sea." Which is how he found me, and why he got himself assigned to Orlais as a diplomat, incidentally. It took some months to organise. He even found the helicopter, or so I would be informed later.

"Over the years, my family has found a good number of dead outlanders. They have all been soldiers, and were often killed by locals whom they attacked or who feared them. My own father believed that it was spilled blood calling to spilled blood, battlefields calling to battlefields. The only way for the Fade to breach your world is for you to inadvertently make a blood sacrifice equal to that which Tiberia and the others made so long ago."

By that reckoning, there should be a great number of people from the 20th century running around, but then, I had been extremely lucky. If it hadn't been for Fraser's men, the dragon would have killed me. If it hadn't been for Julie and Tam, Orlais' justice would have killed me. If it hadn't been for Armen, Ciara and Leha, any number of other quirks and differences would have drawn the attention of authorities that could have killed me. I felt like I had just walked a tightrope over some tall cliffs. I can only imagine what would have happened if we had crash landed over the sea.

However, I was beginning to understand his purpose here.

"So... you want to use my Fade-power?" I asked, "Like some kind of magical battery?" That drew confused looks from the 'Vints, but Julie was on hand to explain better than I could.

"He's asking if you want to take magic from him like one draws water from a dam," she said, "To use him like a source of magic." It would certainly fit the Tevinter profile. From what Tam had told me, they would do anything to advance their position, up to and including mass murder if the magisters of old were any example.

"No, no, not at all," Tiberius objected, "I want to cement a permanent alliance with your house, so that we may add your power to our own." I didn't take his meaning.

"How would an alliance give you my power?" I asked naively. I was thinking of an alliance in modern Earth terms, of course. Ink on paper, not blood, being the bond that sealed it, ties of reputation rather than family keeping them strong. Julie groaned loudly, and I glanced at her for a clue. She looked at me like I was an idiot.

"You should understand noblespeak by now," she complained, "He wants you to marry into his family, you big _imbecile_!"

I returned my gaze to Tiberius, who was nodding deeply.

"I happen to have a wonderful, beautiful granddaughter, Aurelia, who would be a perfect match," the magister said, "Given your noble rank, you could even live openly in the Imperium, and you are clearly a man of integrity as well. It is more than even I could have hoped for." The man was already planning the wedding. It was not the last such proposal I would receive from nobility, but it was by far the most startling. I felt like my tongue was numb in trying to respond to it, not least because it had been made with Julie sitting right beside me.

"You can't be serious," I said, "Move to a slave estate to marry a woman I've never met, to have children so that your family can gain more power? Why on Earth would I do that?" This Aurelia could be Helen of Troy and still it would be a terrible idea, I thought. Julie looked suitably pleased at my reaction, at least.

"Think about it," Tiberius said, leaning on the table, "You have already been attacked by the Templars. Thanks to Madame Marteau here, it is only a matter of time before Orlais and the southern Chantry try to destroy you. The other states are too weak to protect you, and I know you would not flee to the Qun. It does not need to be a romantic arrangement either, simply a political one. Such marriages are common in the nobility, north and south. In Tevinter, you would have respect, status, money, power, and absolute security."

"Yeah, but I'd also have no soul," I replied, "I can't have children with someone I don't love, it's... just nasty. What the hell do we tell the kids themselves? Sorry, Mom and Dad are only on diplomatic terms with one another? Oh, and here's the women I really love? Makes my skin crawl just thinking about it."

Of course, there was a very real problem beyond that. I would undoubtedly be forced to fight, as part of the family's contribution to the Tevinter military. I shuddered with the thought of it. My father's own family had fought for a slave state a century and a half before this, but they had volunteered because of the threat of invasion. I would be compelled to do so, without any higher principle at stake. I wouldn't do it.

"I understand," said Tiberius, conciliatory in tone, "I do not expect you to say yes now. I expect you to come to me once the Orlesians have had their turn." Which they would.

"It's not like you could have forced him anyway," Julie said flippantly.

"Oh, do you know that?," Tiberius replied, "I could have taken you as a chip to trade."

Julie pulled her handcannon up and levelled it at Tiberius. The magister leaned back in his chair again, looking like a toddler had just threatened him. I admired his courage, at least, and noticed that Gaius seemed far more jovial all of a sudden. Which distracted both Julie and I quickly.

"This is not going to plan, is it grandfather?" the mage snickered. Tiberius gave him a disapproving look, the sort only a grandfather can give. Utterly withering.

"You'll have to excuse my grandson, he was never on board with offering you Aurelia's hand," the magister said, "They're cousins, and he wants to marry her himself. Even though it isn't healthy." That set off my alarms for nasty, and apparently, Tiberius' as well.

"Other families do it to preserve the bloodlines," Gaius insisted.

"We are not other families, as this entire conversation has demonstrated," Tiberius snapped, "The man who will restore our power is sitting across from me, not standing behind me!"

In other words, it was me and not Gaius. The presumption riled me a little, but I let it slide on account of the amusing face that it produced in the younger man. He looked like he had just been forced to eat a raw lemon, his lips pursed together. Noble inbreeding was fairly legendary on Earth, and I guess it was progress that at least the magister knew it was a bad idea. The irony is of course that Tiberius was right in the end, though not in the way either of us would have invisaged.

"So, you've made the offer," said Julie, crossing her arms, "It'll never be accepted. Time to go."

"I believe so," Tiberius said, standing up with no hint of malice, "You may keep Keijiro's things. I already have everything of sentimental value to me. The letters are to his wife on Earth. Should you find a way back, I would appreciate if you would deliver them to his real family. He fostered several of my nieces and nephews, after my sister was assassinated, and he has helped raise my many grandchildren. I owe him that much."

We followed the two 'Vints out of the hall, through the garden, and eventually out of the eastern archway, where his little army was waiting under the watchful eyes of Soprano, Mike and Leha.

I grumbled at being so close to the damned dracolisks again, but the magister and his grandson seemed entirely at ease with the beasts, mounting them as easily as a horse. Despite the things hissing like snakes as they shifted their weight.

Surprisingly, the Vints had been ready to leave since morning, or so Soprano whispered to me as I came level with her.

"Farewell Samuel Hunt, Marquis de la Fayette," Tiberius said, his dracolisk rearing as it turned to leave, "I am sure we will meet again."

"Go home, you lunatic," I shouted back, "You'll never see me again."

That got the whole Tevinter group laughing. Evidently his eccentricities were common knowledge. The old man rode off past his columns, and the whole group of Vint mages and Marcher mercs filed around to follow his remarkably brisk pace. All except Gaius, who rode up beside me.

"I'll hold you to that," the younger man said.

"Piss off, Gaius," I replied, giving him an obscene gesture, "Run along before I decide to smite you." The man was barely out of his teen years, to my eye, and undoubtedly able to smite others with his magic. But not me. He grinned maliciously back, before joining the retreat.

"Making friends I see," Soprano said, looking for an explanation. One wouldn't be forthcoming from me.

"I hope not," Julie replied, "I wonder how Tam will react."

"Badly," I said, knowing for certain, "Even more so when she agrees with Tiberius on one thing; Orlais is coming." Which ironically, would not be our fault. At least not directly.

"Then I was right," said Julie, turning to me, "With your help, we can make everything we need to hold the chevaliers at bay forever!" I groaned inwardly. That she had chosen to open up this debate in front of Soprano and Mike was severely irritating. And yet, her bright green eyes pleaded with me, defusing my irritation instantly. Julie always was good at using them, but she was completely sincere this time as well.

I gave in, but only partially.

"A compromise," I said, rubbing the back of my head, "I'll help you, but only to make things that you would have come up with eventually." Nukes and mustard gas would be cheating, after all.

Julie took my hand, and continued watching the Vints ride down the avenue towards Hearth.

"That's all that I ask," she said, before tilting her head slightly in thought, "I wonder why this... Keijiro did not give your technology to Tevinter." It was an interesting question.

"He probably didn't know how it worked," I replied, "His job was different to mine, and he came from a different time. He was trained to obey orders, taught only the most necessary principles, not to think or do tasks outside of fighting." Whereas I had to do both in order to survive. Not to mention that I came through with a large number of books, which stored knowledge that I didn't have.

"We should avoid that with our own people, I think," Julie mused.

I couldn't agree more.

 


	47. The Chant of Light I

File X002: Keijiro Okuba. Brought to Thedas in the Sixty-Third year of the Blessed Age.

Died in July, in the Thirty-Eighth Year of the Dragon Age.

Point of entry: Seheron.

Officer of the Imperial Japanese Army. General of the Tiberian Legions of the Tevinter Imperium. Influential in the adoption of massed non-magical troop tactics against the Qunari. No blood-related Thedosian children, four adopted children via the Titus branch of the Tiberius dynasty.

* * *

File X003: Tiberius Primus, the First Outlander. Brought to Thedas in the Thirtieth year of the Tevinter Imperium.

Died in the Sixty-First year of the Imperium.

Point of Entry:

Centurion of the Roman Empire, Co-founder of the Tevinter Tiberius dynasty. Real name unknown, name used in Thedas most likely taken from the Roman emperor at the time of his removal from Earth (according to my books). Three known children.

* * *

File X004: Andraste MacElderaigh (Elderath).

Date of entry to Thedas unknown. Death in the Year One Thousand and Twenty-Five of the Tevinter Imperium.

Suspected Outlander.

~~Would be only known female outlander.~~ Case unproven.

Most likely arrived as a small child. Successfully escaped Imperial slavery. Proclaimed a monotheistic doctrine when polytheism was dominant both in her homeland and in her place of captivity. This is consistent with someone brought up in a monotheistic environment, as Andraste would have been on Earth. The First Blight insufficient explanation for the defeat of Tevinter during her liberation of the South; any number of magical means to assassinate her could have and should have been employed, yet she lived.

High likelihood of magical immunity, high likelihood that this immunity led directly to the cults that worshipped her as part-divine (as some have attempted with myself). The ancient languages of Ferelden suggest Scottish ancestry. Daughters and granddaughters disappeared, possibly dying without continuing the bloodline.

* * *

These first entries in what became a veritable library of documents, known as the X Files in our secret services, demonstrate my thinking in the days after Tiberius' departure.

There was two thousand years between myself and the First Outlander, and I had a hunch that many more had come in the interim. If seventy-five years was the standard gap, the amount of time that Keijiro Okuba spent on Thedas, then there had been at least twenty-six outlanders in the history of Thedas. That was a low estimate in my opinion. It would be some years before I discovered that the number of Outlander 'arrivals' was closer to three times that figure, when I finally gained access to the archives from Tiberius' Treverorum estate.

I do not remember what led me to believe that Andraste herself was an Outlander. It just seemed to make sense. Her ability would certainly have given her a large proof that she was divinely blessed, just as Mother Brandon believed I was. Yet she was no soldier. She would not have been able to resist the slavers physically. She did not have firelances, or even professional military training. She could have been a slave without ever being subjected to magic, and yet the story of her escape is sufficiently vague as to suggest that she might have discovered her immunity and exploited it.

Perhaps it was, and is, wishful thinking. The only other explanations are that she was very lucky, or that which the Northern Chantry advocates; that the women who defeated Tevinter's magocracy was a mage.

Andraste did many things, but she most certainly sought to make the world a better place. Mages should not rule the world. Magic should serve man, to use her own words. That gave me great hope that my fears about my presence in the world might be ill-judged. After all, if Andraste was an outlander, she must have come from a period of time on Earth known as the Dark Ages. It was one of the least enlightened periods in our history. I, on the other hand, was born in a golden age of reason and prosperity. We often thought it was the opposite, but we were utterly spoiled in comparison to the Thedosians of the same time.

She used one of the few tools available to her; faith and a good message. I could do better than she could. I had more than mere words.

So, having come to this conclusion and convinced myself of its correctness, I threw myself into the work of making Julie's dream of a free Orlais come true. She was to be our Andraste, and I was to be her Maferath. Without the jealousy and betrayal, I am happy to report. I had no stomach for politics or glory, and so nothing to be jealous about. Tam would have killed me if I had gone as far as the Betrayer did in any case. All through the rest of the winter, I spent every free hour helping Julie, Armen and Leha bring what we needed together together.

Julie was truly a Da Vinci, at least in my eyes. It's hard for me not to put her on a pedestal.

She had thought of everything, inspired by Earth technology and history. Weapons, armour, tools, she invented and built them all in months. The forges were worked almost continuously, with iron, steel, bronze and silverite. The snows cleared in late January, and we were able to mix up a great deal of black powder too. I even successfully made some of the more potent explosive compounds, on a small scale. It seemed chemistry largely held up the same way on Thedas as it did on Earth. Leha and Armen confirmed as much. The number of people involved in making weapons was greatly increased, as the blacksmiths were largely unemployed in winter due to lack of fuel. No such problem for a 'noble' with hundreds of fire-throwing mages to spare.

Tam's reaction to Tiberius' revelations was muted, but as predicted. She had extensive knowledge of Tevinter, and was far from surprised at the extent of their arrogance. She warned me that it wasn't the end of the matter by a long shot. I was valuable, far too much so to simply wait for a change of mind. The Imperium's magisters weren't as skilled as their Orlesian counterparts at non-magical manipulation, but Tam assured me that they would find some way to put us in their debt.

Tam conscripted Ciara and Armen to help train the soldiers. McNulty and Soprano were both promoted to colonel, their companies were turned into regiments, and we began arming them with their signature weapons. Soprano's group became the Rangers, specialists as before in the art of killing a man from afar. They added the rifled musket to their repetoire of longbow and crossbow. McNulty and his men gained their famous Grenadiers moniker, their swords and rectangular curved shields joined by the same rifled muskets, and 'potato masher' devices that could be thrown a few dozen yards to kill in a six metre radius. One of the keys to our victories to come were taking shape. It was also perhaps the key to our complete overconfidence.

Most of our people remained armed in a way that any Thedosian would recognise, although their organisation and discipline would be alien. There just wasn't enough time to train everyone, and there was no way to make enough gunpowder while keeping the formula a secret. Velarana and Mike also gained commissions as colonels, the knight-enchanter leading the few hundred battle-mages as a coherent unit despite my better judgment, and Mike leading the pike-and-crossbow troops we had started training before the winter.

The children were also getting along. The rate at which the illiterate peasant kids had picked up Latin letters utterly astonished me. By the time spring rolled along, they had the entire Chant of Light written out, making it the second ever publication in Latin lettering after _Le Sens Commun_ , which was published in both Common and Latin. Another huge money maker later on. They were educated in a great deal else besides. A good number of the mages were heavily involved in this, having much experience with teaching children. Though there was only agreement to allow this after Delrin Barris agreed to sit in on every class where a mage would be present. It proved such a successful enterprise that the ballrooms on the ground floor doubled as classrooms. As an added bonus, the band learned a great number of marching tunes, and the older of them were eventually assigned to the regiments. The sound of drums and Dalish fifes was a regular thing from that point onwards.

To my non-Thedosian readers, you might get the impression that, together, we had planned for everything. Or that we were playing with fire like fools, and would get burned. The truth is somewhere in between, of course, but there was something I had utterly neglected to think of. Orlais, like much of Southern Thedas, was highly faithful. It was a religious age, and in many places it still is. The question of where I stood on the big questions grew bigger as my reputation did.

The Chantry wanted its pound of flesh.

* * *

With the clearing of the snows came what I can only describe as pilgrims. It was winter, so there was little to do in the farms and plantations which most were tied to. Many travelled to Hearth to see Julie and I. They mostly came to hear her speak, of course. They wanted to see if she would dare criticise the Throne with something other than paper. She was happy to do so, even in the rain. Dozens became hundreds, and by the letting up of the torrential rain season in March, hundreds had become thousands. Peasants, traders, even some minor nobility came from all over the Dales. I was wary at first, particularly of the latter, but it seems fear of mages kept those who weren't certain away.

Many wished to see me, and most alarmingly, wanted to touch me so as to have themselves blessed, protected from all their worst nightmares. Perhaps I should have told them of the visitation I had received from the very dead former owner of my home, but alas, I did not. The stories had gotten out of hand, and no matter how much political capital we would have gained from allowing it, I refused to be mobbed. I kept to myself when the crowds were around. They didn't seem to mind. Between Julie and Mother Brandon, they were well entertained. Both enjoyed giving speeches far more than I did.

Of course, while these events were going on, the parade ground was used. So, I couldn't help Julie at the forge because she was out on a podium, I couldn't drill troops because there was no space and they were too busy guarding things, and I couldn't conduct much other business without sneaking around.

The last such meeting was in mid-March, just before everyone had to get back to work. Farming takes a lot of people, without machines.

I was beside the stables, well out of sight. Not even the stable staff were there, it was lunch time. I had sat down on a stool near Bellona's stall, using a barrel as a table. I had a few things to read, so I was sat down with a mug of ale to get it out of the way. Mostly just progress reports, of course. We didn't have too many penpals around Orlais. Or at least, I didn't. It was all run-of-the-mill stuff, until I reached the last letter of the pile.

It bore the sigil of Pierre des Arbes. The Baron was writing to me from Halamshiral.

This was quite literally the first correspondence from the man in three months. I cursed under my breath. The hope that there would be a few more months without him died. I ignored a cheer in the distance from the crowds, took the letter in my hand and ripped it open roughly. It was handwritten in a flowing, educated script that I wouldn't have attributed to the Baron himself, although perhaps the Baroness had done the honours. Or I was being unkind to the man, which was always the danger at that time.

_Marquis,_

_As you have singularly failed to die despite the Templars trying their hardest, I must avail of your services yet again._

_First of all, may I congratulate you on your new-found fame?_

_The entire Winter court has heard tales about you, though almost all dismiss you as a myth or a fraud. A man who cannot be harmed by mages, gathering them into a new Circle? It seems the Templars tried to keep their defeat at your hands extremely quiet, and I can guess for what reason. The Sorceress currently advising the Empress was by far the most scornful of your rumoured immunity to magic and all things concerning the Fade. It is most amusing to know better, having received letters from Mother Brandon swearing that it is the absolute truth. Naturally, I have kept the affidavit of our beloved Revered Mother a safe secret. It is gratifying to know I have such a useful person in my employ._

_However, I do not write out of concern for you._

_I have always known Julie to be a brilliant woman, but her words have shaken the very foundations of the Empire. It seems like everyone has read her 'Common Sense' now. The younger nobles in particular seem most enamoured with it, and I have to admit that I myself am as well. My wife seems to be obsessed with its ideals. Madame Marteau has managed to collect all that is wrong with Orlais into a single parchment for all to see, exposing its weakness and corruption. It appears that even Empress Celene has read it, as her personal servant was seen exiting her rooms with a copy of the pamphlet some days ago. Again, our little secret._

_Unfortunately, there has been a consequence to this. The Grand-Duke and many other nobles, particularly the higher ranked elder lords and ladies, are less than amused. Julie has managed to excite even greater tensions between Gaspard and Celene. Worse, despite all our pleadings, the Empress will not confront the pretender either on the battlefield or through other means. His death would send far more of the Empire into turmoil than simply ignoring the problem. Of course, nor can Gaspard directly intervene, now that the taxes he had collected from we loyal barons was intercepted._

_I trust that my fellows' coin has been very useful in strengthening our forces at Hearth, yes? We will have need of that strength._

_The Grand-Duke cannot attack us directly, but he hardly needs to. Among those loyal to Celene in our part of the Dales, only two of us are warriors. The ten or so others are simply gentlemen or ladies of leisure, little interested in war. War is going to come to them anyway. Gaspard's barons in the Emprise and on the Exalted Plains are far more warlike, and will undoubtedly march upon us. The senior clerics in the Chantry are greatly displeased by Julie's words as well, and may channel gold to our enemies to insure she is silenced. Preaching from the lower ranked clerics will save you if there is a command from on high, calling you an apostate or a heathen, but it will certainly divide opinion._

_It is no longer safe in the Winter Palace, and the court is due to return to Val Royeaux soon regardless. By the time you have read this, we will be on the way home. Myself, the Baroness, our children, and the other barons, baronesses and their families. We will come together in council in Hearth, and discuss how we will meet this threat._

_I hope to arrive by boat some three days after the expected delivery date of this message. My seneschal will have instructions to arrange a grand return ceremony as always. Cancelling it would arouse suspicions. I expect to see you on the docks._

_Signed,_

_Baron Pierre des Arbes, the Lord Hearth, Royal Governor of the Hearthlands._

I put down the letter with a sigh. Everything he had said was actually good news. It appeared we actually had allies in the struggle to come. The problem it seemed, would be convincing them to fight with us. To make Julie's glorious cause into their cause. I would have thought convincing Julie herself to go along with this meeting to be a difficult thing, but she had read the history of Earth. No matter how principled she was, she was not so much a zealot as to execute the nobility outright. At least, not before they resisted.

Getting a bunch of soft nobles to fight when some sort of deal was the most likely outcome was going to be difficult, but I had a plan. I had to convince them we could win, and thanks to Julie, I think we had the right tools for that job. That war was coming at all was wearisome in the extreme, but I resigned myself. I had fought in two wars already. What was a third or fourth to me? Nothing but a series of complex challenges.

I stood up, going to return inside the château, when Bellona edged out of her stable door and neighed at me, shaking her head for a moment. A familiar sign to me by that stage.

I sauntered over, drawing out each step and smiling. "Now what do you want?" I said to the horse, getting another impatient neigh and head-shake for my trouble.

"Oh, you want this!" I said, holding up my hand.

I stroked the horse along the neck, and she froze on the spot as I did so. A bit of heavy breathing and she got into it. I let out a laugh, as her eye gazed at me with what I suppose is appreciation. In fairness, getting stroked is pretty good regardless of what species you are. Bellona was a very steady beast, totally unafraid of loud noises, barely registering fire as a threat and most definitely one I could take into combat. Of course, my opinion of horses is similar to my opinion of mages; bringing them into battle directly is an expensive proposition, perhaps too expensive. At least horses don't occasionally insist on it, as Velarana and Armen's cohorts did.

So I kept at it for a few minutes, unaware of my surroundings. My mind turned to some boring practical matters that I now forget, most likely to do with gunpowder and how much of it we had.

I didn't hear Ciara approach from behind.

"She really likes that," the she-elf said suddenly.

I flinched, not expecting anyone to be with me. I turned around to find Ciara in a casual peasant's outfit, as opposed to her more usual hunting garb. It was strange to my eye, and I remarked on it.

"Just back from the big meeting?" I asked, "I thought you Dalish didn't go in for Andraste talk." Julie liked to draw direct parallels between the struggle against the Tevinters of old and the coming war that she was sure was near. It was a very compelling notion, that the movement she was creating was following in those footsteps. Not entirely an original idea either, I have to say.

Ciara shook her head at my question.

"We don't," she replied, "I'm hiding. Dalish aren't welcome." This was actually quite wise on her part, but I was confused.

"Aren't they all Dalish?" I asked, "I mean, they're all from the Dales." I got a small smile in return.

"They live in the Dales, but they do not honour the ways of the true Dalish," she explained, her accent deepening, "When Orlais conquered this land, most elves accepted the religion and way of life of the Orlesians."

"So people, even elves, who farm or live in towns aren't Dalish, because they worship Andraste?" I asked, "Where I'm from, that would be considered supremacist, or fundamentalist."

Ciara tilted her head slightly, not understanding the terms. Isms didn't really translate very well, most of the time.

"Americans can believe in one of many religions or none at all," I tried to explain, "But they're all still Americans, as long as they're loyal to the country. The same is true of many countries on Earth. It seems... unfair to paint everyone who disagrees with you as 'not Dalish'."

To me, the peasant in the field and the wandering hunter-gatherer were just as equally primitive. Neither would or could contribute to the advancement of their society. I did believe there were lines you couldn't cross, ideas that were so contrary to the common good that it made it justified to ostracise or even attack a person, but simply believing in a different deity wasn't among them. My perception was tempered by my experience of the desert and the years leading up to my service, however.

Ciara considered my words for a moment, stroking Bellona while her eyes moved. She was trying her best to explain it to me delicately.

"I didn't make up the rules," she said at last, "It is simply how my people think. The shems are hardly better, they believe we are savages to be shooed away, or hunted down and killed."

I nodded at that. It was certainly true that attitudes towards the Dalish were equally as screwed up, perhaps more so than those towards 'city' elves.

"I wouldn't know," I conceded, "So are you following Julie simply because Armen is?"

Ciara blew a fart out of her lips and laughed heartily, shaking and holding her sides. Bellona backed off a little, clearly as startled as I was. I had barked up the wrong tree completely.

"Armen and I are good friends, but he has different reasons than I do," she said, wiping tears of hilarity out of her eyes, "He has lived among the shems all his life, and wants the best for them. I just want to do more than wander around with my clan for an entire lifetime. I want to see with my own eyes how the world passes. Doesn't matter what happens as long as it's interesting. I care, of course. Julie's ideas are very interesting."

I frowned. This seemed extremely whimsical, but then, considering how we met Ciara, I guessed this was natural. Not everyday you run into a Dalish elf doing casual work in Orlais. In fact, most city elves thought of their cousins with stories bordering on myth, rather than the squalid reality of life on the move. A lesson we would ourselves learn in time.

"Not a woman of high principle, I see," I said back to her, "I guess asking you to mediate for Dalish support would be stupid." Though she was barely a woman, it was hard to see her as a child considering the violence she had seen.

"My clan is far, and wouldn't come anyway," said Ciara, "In fact, I think the last person who did was probably Julie's father." That was an interesting tidbit, particularly as it could be leverage.

"He was from your clan?" I asked.

"Not sure," Ciara shrugged, "From what she has said, it seems likely. There are plenty more clans on the Plains, not too many in the south and none around these parts." I had no intention of inquiring with Julie further on the subject, so there was little need to doubt these words.

"Well, I am glad we are so entertaining," I replied, changing the subject back to her motivations.

"Of course," Ciara replied cheerily, before adding, "The garden helped convince me." She was something akin to chief herbalist, growing all sorts of useful and beautiful things. Of course, her duties included a great deal of fighting, which brought me to the next question.

"You do know it's going to be even more dangerous from now on?" I said, "No one would think less of you if you didn't want to stick around."

"Can't watch the world without fighting for your place, Marquis," she said, tone turning to jest on my title, "I thought you would know that."

She wandered off as suddenly as she had arrived, pacing away pretty rapidly and rounding the corner of the Chateau, leaving me in a daze. She was a wonderful idiot, I'll give her that. I am still not convinced we were worth her considerable, quiet effort. Not once had she seriously complained. She just got down to business. Very admirable to my eye.

The reason for her haste entered my attention as a sharp, loud voice booming from the château archway opposite.

"Marquis, I must speak with you!" Revered Mother Brandon shouted, walking across the cobblestones, "It is of the utmost concern!"

I winced and turned away instinctually at the Orlesian priestess' approach. She was almost as annoying as a believer as when she was trying to get me burned at the stake, at least at this point. She had several 'utmost' concerns between the Templars' defeat and the beginning of spring.

Personally, I had thought she would revolt against us when the full details of that debacle had emerged, but our defeat of the 'rogue faction' of the Chantry's own military arm and our chasing away of the Tevinter delegation in a very public manner had actually increased her zeal for our cause. Julie had even convinced her to grow out her hair a little more, so as to appear more soft for the new pilgrims who might be unused to her.

Heloise Brandon had not grown soft in any other respect, however.

"Marquis, I have received a letter from the Divine," she said, "We have a serious problem."

I was tempted to retort that the Chantry was a never ending source of problems, but something else came to mind in a much stronger fashion. Sister Nightingale was supposed to have kept things in order for me, or tried. It seemed somewhat late for a reaction to what was perfectly legitimate defence, in my opinion.

"If it's about the mages, I'm not cooperating with any move to put them back in the Circles," I said immediately, "They're perfectly safe with me." We hadn't had a single instance of maleficar or demon possession, despite far more extensive use of magic than would be normal even in a Circle. This was somewhat strange to scholars of the subject, I am told, but my presence is an anomaly they could never calculate for.

"It is not truly about the mages. The Divine has proclaimed L'Ambassade to be a new Circle, so that it appears that she has not lost ground in the face of the Libertarians. No, the letter is also about the Lady Marquise," Brandon said, waving the letter in front of me, "The senior clergy are furious, and I cannot say I am surprised. Fat bureaucrats that they are, they cannot understand the true meaning of the Chant, and of Andraste's struggle." The Revered Mother nodded to herself assuredly, like she was absolutely positive of their corruption. A little funny, her certitudes now supporting us. Still, it was good to know we had some cover against future Templar attacks. I suspected Barris' hand in it, but it was neither here nor there.

"They're probably under a lot of pressure from the Orlesian nobles," I shrugged, "Not very surprising, and nothing we can do about it." In fact, Grand-Duke Gaspard had already been to see the Divine on the problem. He was informed the Templars had been dispatched, and repulsed. Julie's seed of revolution wasn't going to be thrown to the fire that easily. Leliana provided much information on the events in court during that time, once the sky split open and spat demons everywhere.

"Marquis, you do not seem to grasp the seriousness of this problem," Brandon said, "No matter what I believe, and what I encourage my flock to believe, if the Divine declares this movement to be heretical, support of the _paysans_ and the _bourgeoisie_ will falter." Which means we'd lose our food, supply of materials needed for weapons, income from merchants, and the countryside would be rife with spies at the very least. Not good. However, there did not appear to be any way for me to dodge this problem.

"It may be unavoidable," I said quietly, "The Chantry can't defy the nobles." The Templars are no match for the armies of Orlais, when you get right down to it. Not even a match for the Empress' personal levies. The Divine ruled right in the middle of the capital of the Empire. The fact she was Orlesian herself was no coincidence either.

"Not without cause," Brandon corrected, "And that is why I have come to you today."

"You think I have the answer?" I scoffed, "I really don't think I have any swing with the Divine." Not the sort that could cause her to tell the entire aristocracy she relied on for protection to take a long walk off a short pier, anyway.

"It is not through a favour that I intend to win," Brandon continued.

"Then how can we?" I asked.

The Revered Mother put her hand on my shoulder, unsettling me a little.

"It has been noticed that you have not stepped inside a chantry chapel since you have arrived," Brandon said gravely, "My fellow clerics tell me that there are many who believe you cannot be sent by the Maker, because you do not worship the Maker and sing His Chant."

"But I do worship the Maker," I said, "Just not in any way you would recognise." And frankly, I was hoping to avoid the whole issue. Christ said to pray in private, something I took to heart. Those who bellowed and shouted about their faith, like Brandon, struck me as trying too hard.

"Or in any way that anyone else recognises," the Revered Mother intoned gravely, "This must change. You are a figure of the highest standing now, eyes will be watching for any reason to destroy you. I cannot allow that to happen. The Maker has spoken to us through your presence."

My face curled with scepticism, I nodded. It was going to be a problem unless we jumped in front of the 'Maker-sent' issue. I utterly refused to state clearly that I was a messenger of the Divine, but there was no harm in reinforcing the image for our own purposes. It would save lives. Those of Julie and Tam especially.

"I give up," I said at last, "What do you want me to do?"

Brandon cracked a smile like I had never seen before, one obviously reserved for when she was in a victorious mood. I felt fatigued just looking at it.

"We go to the Hearth Chantry," she replied, "We can proceed from there."

I nodded again, and the cleric went off to retrieve her mount.

Annoyed at the necessity but understanding the full gravity of the situation, I went to the saddles rack. Hefting the piece of hardened leather over Bellona's back, I secured it with the straps and placed the bridle around her head. I got a grunt for my work from the horse, one that said she was happy to be getting around. Can't really blame her, after being cooped up for so long in winter.

Mother Brandon appeared around the corner on her pony, and inclined her head in thanks for what I was doing. Not sure how to react otherwise, I climbed up onto Bellona and we began moving around the château out of view of the crowds on the parade ground. Apparently the cleric didn't want to be mobbed either, to my intense relief. So, until we came abreast of the space between the building and the gate, there was no possibility of us being seen.

When we did, it was quite a sight.

Julie was atop the wooden stage we had built, speaking in a clear, loud voice to the enraptured crowd. She was dressed in fatigues, beret and all, clearly making sure that she was associated with me even in my absence. Her words were to be my words, in effect. The speech was on the topic of whether or not the people of the Dales could win against the might of Orlais' high nobility, but the exact words I cannot recall. I was too busy admiring the sight of her, as well as her immediate protector.

Behind her was Tam. In full Earth-panoply, longsword and curved dagger held tight, violets eyes searching for any sign of trouble. Her extremely blonde hair fell out from under the rounded desert-pattern helmet, catching the sun. She wasn't in fatigues however, preferring her rather scandalous Qunari garb again now that it had warmed up. She almost appeared to be wearing armour and nothing else from the waist up, which I'm sure was quite a draw for the men in the crowd. And some of the women.

Beside Julie to her immediate right was Armen, looking pleased with himself and watching the spectators with the air of a dog who has its bone. Considering how many people had been saved by magical healing over the course of the winter, acts mostly associated with him, his popularity was at a zenith of sorts. Yet he didn't abandon his Circle robes, a very visible reminder of his origins that I thought he would have discarded by now.

Around the bottom of the platform, and on the stairs, were McNulty and his biggest men. Some decked out in partial plate, grenades hanging off bandoliers. Most were listening to Julie rather than paying attention to their jobs. Beyond that, a good thousand people were tuned in to Radio Marteau, whispering to each other or applauding at a particularly well delivered point.

Tam saw me as we left, and gave me a wink that excited some murmurs in the throng. I grinned, and followed the Revered Mother out onto the stony road to Hearth.


	48. The Chant of Light II

We entered the palisade with no trouble at all, the guards having no intention of stopping either a Marquis or a Revered Mother. They did advise us to slow down, as there were people going about business in town, but this was something they said to everyone at every opportunity. Too many deaths under horse hooves in the few years previous, apparently.

We were passing Julie's family home, which had been turned into a clinic, when I noticed Delrin Barris standing over a very laid back Leha. The Templar's presence was unsurprising; when he wasn't guarding schoolchildren against the mages, he was guarding patients there. The dwarf on the other hand was sunk into a chair by the pathway, bottle in hand, dumb happy grin on her face. I simply had to know why, and called the Revered Mother to a halt for a moment.

"Hey, Leha!" I said, approaching at a trot, "How's business?"

Barris turned around, opening his mouth to make a complaint until his eyes caught the sight of the Revered Mother, at which point his training kicked in. He gave a closed-fisted salute across his chest, and lowered his head respectfully. Leha giggled at his devotion, whereas I had quiet respect for it. Chain of command.

"Do you know how much money we are making?" she declared, raising her bottle, "Absolutely everything is selling like it's solid gold. I had to save the last of the apple vodka!" She took a generous swig, as if we would take it from her if she didn't do so.

"Is it really appropriate to be drinking in such a place, at such a time?" the Revered Mother said disapprovingly, "You are making a fool of yourself." I flinched, preparing for the dwarf to go explosive in response. Instead, the opposite happened.

"Says the fool who wears the silly hat," Leha said, wiggling her finger at the offender, "There's no time like the present, particularly with you dangerous world-changing types around. By the Stone, you're going to get me killed. But at least I'll be rich _and_ drunk." A gentle reminder that she wasn't Andrastian with a surprisingly cogent point about her situation.

Thinking that very appropriate, I burst out laughing. The Revered Mother scowled at me, but I waved it off. In fact, her disapproval made it more funny to me.

"Well enjoy yourself, I have business to attend to," I said, "Carry on, Ser Barris. I suggest ignoring her when she's like this."

The Templar frowned, turning his attention back to the dwarf for a moment before walking back inside the compound, where a gaggle of mages were talking.

Leha eyed me curiously. "What business are you... attending to?" she chirped drunkenly.

"The Marquis is coming with me to the Chantry, so that we may reflect on the Maker's glory," said Mother Brandon proudly, "Something you yourself would benefit greatly from, if you would only see!"

"That true?" asked Leha, skipping over the cleric's enthusiasm with the apathy of intoxication.

"It is," I replied.

"Really?" she continued, "You lose a bet or something?"

"Nope," I said.

Leha closed one eye and looked inside her bottle. She swirled the contents for a moment, smelling it as if trying to detect something unexpected, before putting the whole thing down.

"I think I've drank too much," she said, getting off her seat, "I need to see a healer."

She walked off, calling for a mage, her conversation with us at an end. Leha was well aware of my reluctance to go to the Chantry, and it was to her I most often vented about the hypocrisies of the religion at the time. Little wonder she thought she was going mad upon hearing I was joining the flock.

Without another word, I tugged on Bellona's reins and led the way to the gatehouse. The Revered Mother followed, and we made our way through the streets of the town.

* * *

Conversations under breath followed us as we went, as they often did when I went into Hearth itself. I paid them no real heed. Perhaps I should have. Aside from dodging a few carts and almost running smack into a bunch of playing elven children at the corner of their district, the journey to the town square was otherwise without incident. It took us ten minutes, but we drew up alongside the main doors.

Brandon and I tied up our mounts outside the Chantry itself, and we entered the arched structure, the cleric in front once again.

It was dark inside for the most part, lit by candles or small oil lamps hanging from small chandeliers or on ledges that ran the length of the walls. At the far end was a set of stained glass windows, throwing tinted light of the day onto the golden statue of Andraste herself, flanked by two lions at rest. There were no pews, like you would see in a Christian church, instead worshippers gathered in side alcoves to quietly sing the Chant. I presumed that people would stand for the weekly gathering.

On the raised dias where the statue stood, there were chairs arranged in a circle, presumably for the presiding clerics. The smell of incense almost covered the smell of animal fat, answering the question of where they got oil for lamps in the first place. Echoes of repeated verses and footsteps reverberated around the stone as we moved, and the doors closed behind us.

It was an interesting experience, albeit not particularly impressive. I had seen Rome and Berlin while on leave, after all. I noted the space's features, as the Revered Mother instructed a lay sister to do something.

"Okay, we're here," I said, "What now?"

The lay sister returned to sight before Mother Brandon could answer. With a child in tow. I immediately recognised her as one of the more prominent of Tam's students, and the girl who had sung at the funeral for those who had died against White Mask's chevaliers and men-at-arms. A pretty elfling with black hair. She couldn't have been more than eight years old.

The girl stood there, looking up at me with strange attention, like I wasn't real. That made me a little uncomfortable. I wanted to tell her to stop, though I doubted it would have helped, so I refrained.

"Marquis, meet Lana," the Revered Mother said, "Lana, this is the Marquis de la Fayette."

"I know," the little girl replied, matter-of-factly, "It is good to meet you, sir." Her voice was as lyrical as Ciara's own, but still very much Orlesian.

My eyebrow arched at her good manners, before I remembered that Tam was her teacher.

As I am sure there are questions about it; yes, this is _the_ Lana Duquesne, future high chancellor. It gives me no small amount of pleasure to recall this, our first meeting. Particularly as she has been glorified and vilified in equal measure. She was the first of a generation brought up to value liberty, and hated tyranny wherever she saw it. Tam's fault, really. Which put more than one of us on the spot, as you can imagine.

"The pleasure is all mine," I said, with an uncertain glance at Mother Brandon.

"Lana, this is the first time the Marquis has ever been in a chantry," Brandon start, her tone condescending slightly as one usually does with children.

"Is that because the Maker sent him from another world?" Lana interrupted precociously.

"Yes, it is," said Brandon patiently. She was completely unaware of the Tevinter blood magic two thousand years ago that actually caused it, but I wasn't eager to broadcast that story for the obvious political reasons. I like my skin attached to the rest of me, firmly. Not that it mattered when she finally was informed, but a lot more had happened by that stage. I have no doubt she would have found the news distressing at that moment.

"So he needs help, huh?" said Lana, with a frown that melted my heart. It was like watching a puppy. The Revered Mother nodded solemnly. The little girl circled me, alarmingly like a shark investigating its prey, if the shark was fluffy.

"Lana is my aide for those new to the faith," Brandon proclaimed with amusement, "I leave you in her very capable hands."

I frowned. Evidently almost everyone 'new to the faith' was four or five years old at most. Doubt there were many Dalish or Avvar coming in to convert, put it that way. The Revered Mother bent over and whispered something into the child's ear, getting a rapid nodding motion when she was done.

"Marquis," Brandon said, as she bowed to take her leave.

Before I could object, the kid grabbed my left hand with both of her own little ones, and pulled me along with surprising energy. Amused onlookers in Chantry robes followed us, stopping their chanting and gathering at the bottom of the raised section. Lana dragged me up onto it, and around the circle of priestly chairs to below the stained glass.

A thin arm pointed up at the first one on the left.

"Andraste was born free, but taken by the magisters," Lana reported, "And we chant so that the same will not happen to us." One of the reasons for doing so, at any rate. It was also the same reason the Chantry wanted to lock people up in towers for the mere possession of magical blood.

Lana appeared to wait for my response, which put me off-foot.

"Eh, good idea?" I said warily, "Although, if any magisters show up, I can take care of them. Don't you worry about them." Well, any _other_ magisters. Good thing there was only one who knew of my little trick.

This satisfied Lana, and I got a short little nod for it, sending a ripple through her little robes with the force of it.

"Revered Mother Brandon said that you can't be hurt by magic," Lana said, "The Maker sent you to protect us." I didn't have the heart to tell her the truth of my arrival, but I did consider something else.

While it was Tevinter ritual that brought me to Thedas, a question remained. Why me? It seemed that the foiling of the magisters' plan two thousand years ago had happened for reasons unknown. Had the Maker intervened to prevent them from destroying the world? It seemed possible to me. The timing of my own arrival, and that I had been chosen at all, seemed more than coincidence. Only the memory of Fraser's men kept me from embracing the idea of destiny entirely.

So, I had absolutely no qualms with confirming the story, even if it was on faith alone.

"It seems that way," I agreed.

Lana smiled widely, clutching at her clothes. She was very pleased to hear it.

"Then, if you sing the Chant of Light, maybe the Maker will listen!" she said excitedly, "I can teach you, if you want!"

Thus was revealed Mother Brandon's true hope, as well as that of many of the pilgrims. If I possessed a power against magic, perhaps I had the Maker's ear. It was hard to be reluctant in the face of Lana's enthusiasm, and it would be necessary. I knew Julie would chew on my ear if I didn't accept such an excellent proposal, and doing so would be dismissing a key part of a culture that I probably would have to live with for the rest of my life.

"I would like that," I said.

The girl took my hand again and pulled me towards the front doors again, through the small gathering of chantry brothers and sisters that had been listening quietly.

"I have a book at home with the canticles, I can use that to show you," Lana said, letting me go as I followed at her quick pace, "We can walk there now!"

"Why walk when we can ride?" I said with a wave of my hand.

"Oh! I've never been on a horse before!" Lana said. She was from the town, evidently.

The worshippers and clerics were following us, with a strange sense of anticipation. Lana skipped along ahead of me, oblivious. I glanced back at them, wondering what the hell they were doing. They noticed, and a ripple of poor dissembling went over their faces. Heads swivelled quickly away from my direction. Not suspicious at all.

"You can come too, if you want," I shouted back to them, "No shame in asking."

Several of them jumped, as if out of their skin, while others shamelessly took up the offer and sped up to follow. It wasn't really a sincere thing, I just wanted to put them off balance. A case of my mouth moving before my head, I guess. Regardless, I tolerated their advance as we made our way to the closed front doors.

As we approached, it struck me as very odd that they were closed in the middle of the day. It wasn't winter any more, so letting in the cold wasn't the issue. There were two young boys assigned to opening them, and they began pulling furiously on the ropes attached to each door as we drew close. I took one last look at those following us, not paying much attention to the situation to my front until I was on the very threshold of the chantry's gateway.

I stopped dead at the the sight of the huge crowd, and was greeted by a rapturous cheer from a thousand throats. It was a truly mixed crowd. I even saw the yellow feather of a chevalier here and there.

Led by Julie and the Revered Mother on horseback, no less. It had been a set-up all along, or rather, they had come up with this as a means to maximise publicity of my acceptance of the Chantry. Even Lana seemed to be in on it, still trying to pull me to my horse without so much as a passing glance at the mob of people. I must have looked utterly stunned, because Tam approached with a concerned look on her face.

"Sorry, it was the only way to make sure that we weren't condemned," the Qunari said with a frown.

That broke the spell, and I shook my head a little to regain my concentration and voice. I decided to play the part quickly, before my reluctance spoiled the whole point of the stunt.

"I understand," I said before turning back to the kid latched onto my arm, "Let's get out of here, shall we?"

Lana gave another firm nod, and let me approach Bellona. My horse took the noise and rabble with her expected stoic poise. Glad that one of us was, I climbed up into the saddle with some trepidation. Tam grabbed Lana off the ground and handed her up to me. I placed the child side-saddle on my lap, and gave Bellona a nudge to get going, which she did.

I waved at the crowd as we turned, getting another loud roar for my trouble.

Julie and Mother Brandon rode up alongside me as the crowd parted to allow our passage.

"I knew you wouldn't let us down," Julie reported with a warm smile, Revas trotting along excitedly beside Bellona's heavier footfalls.

"I try," I said flatly, giving another wave instead of getting the hell out of there at speed, as I wanted to.

Little did I know that it was the beginning of a huge swell of support for our cause. I had passed a crucial test in the eyes of many. To the largely uneducated masses, the notion that a demon could enter a Chantry willingly was impossible. So, it was essentially proof in their eyes that I was not a Fade-monster. All the better that I wasn't aware I was being tested. Of course, it's utter nonsense. Demons can go into chantries if they want to. Andraste's divine presence protects against them only through the training of Templars and Seekers, for the most part.

Julie and Tam made the unwelcome surprise worth the trouble later, at least.

 

 


	49. The Barons' Revolt I

My agreement to learn and participate in the rites of the Andrastian Chantry, while important to grow our support, was superseded as a priority due to the return of the nobility from the royal court. The bottom line was that I was taught the basics by a child, albeit a very bright and interesting one, and the points of contention within the religion by the much less interesting Revered Mother Brandon. The nobility was the real power in the country, and I couldn't co-opt them as easily.

Orlais would have been an unwieldy creature, had it not been for its centralised government. It was the largest and perhaps the most populous empire on Thedas, which presented serious problems for its governance. Nobles, distant and possessing great wealth and military forces of their own, would have been tempted to set up as monarchs in their own right, fracturing the Empire into a dozen or more pieces. Nevarra was militarised to avoid such a fate, and wasn't as extensive territorially anyway. Ferelden's monarchy ruled by consent of the nobility. Both lived under the threat of Orlesian conquest to an extent that made disunity suicidal. Orlais itself had no such threat to unite it, nor a system of government that prevented rebellion. Only Tevinter or the Qunari could hope to challenge its full might directly, and they were far too busy fighting each other.

To counteract this reality, the high aristocracy spent every winter together in the Winter Palace at Halamshiral, a provision enforced by law. Where they could be watched, where they could be influenced, where their plots could be undone at the source. This is how the Emperors and Empresses of Orlais controlled the vast and sprawling bloodlines. It gave no shortage of opportunities to the nobles themselves of course, not only to fight for position among themselves but to aim higher. The Great Game was the great solution to Orlais' size.

There were only ever two important questions in Orlesian politics in the end. "Who would rule what piece of land?" and "Should we go to war?" The former was by far the most important, and every means to answer it were employed. The latter was an extension of the former, not always answered, and not always answered by the Orlesians themselves, as the Marchers, Fereldans and Neverrans could attest to. There were no questions about how society was run. There were no questions about the justice of keeping elves, Andrastian or not, locked up in ghettos. There were none about the wisdom of keeping most of the productive populace ignorant and downtrodden, rather than invested in the success of the Empire as a whole.

No questions of that sort, not openly. Until Julie Marteau came along.

Even among the nobility, her words were a naked flame to a tinderbox, setting off a wildfire of new questions. If Orlais was so great, how come it had been thrown from Ferelden, a tiny country with a mere twentieth of the population? How had it been thrown from the Free Marches by disorganised, treacherous rabble? How had the Neverrans stubbornly refused to be defeated? Why should the whole running of the Empire be dependent on the slaughter of fellow Orlesians? Why should every noble from chevalier to Grand-Duke have to live in fear of their children being assassinated by jealous rivals? Why should mages be locked away, their duty to their countrymen abdicated by the fear of demon possessions? Was this Andraste's vision for the world?

These questions haunted the nobles in particular, for their chivalry was brought into question by the inconvenient truths. The glory and strength of their country mattered deeply to them, just as the liberties and opportunities of the country mattered to the commoners. Julie's message may not have been so powerful in normal circumstances, but the Empire was teetering on the edge of civil war. Kirkwall had made things even worse, as tensions between mages and Templars drew in the noble supporters of both.

And so, in the winter of 9:38-39, the plotting in the Winter Palace took on a whole new character. The nobles began to plot against each other not for their own interests, but for those of their country. The battle was to be drawn along ideological lines. Those who believed that the crippling of the common folk was the crippling of the Empire, against those who believed the commons could not be trusted to join the national enterprise. Those who believed elves could be tied to the cause of the Empire via the common faith, versus those who saw the elves as subhuman, worthy only of contempt. Those who believed mages could serve the country, versus those who feared and hated everything to do with magic. There were very few fence-sitters, as even if you didn't care about one matter, another would provoke you.

This text may be the only record of the details of this startling and new conflict at its inception, in the words of those who initiated it.

* * *

The Ides of March, Thirty-Ninth Year of the Dragon Age.

The few days previous had been taken up with drills of all kinds, for both my people and I. With the seneschal of Hearth, we organised the welcoming party. All the preparations had been made. Meanwhile, I had split my time between insuring the required... tools were ready and learning about the Chant of Light.

Julie had spent the entirety of that day with her sisters. Élodie was ready to burst, already weeks overdue. Twins were on the way. Claire was also ready to burst, with anticipation rather than birth. Tam and Leha followed me around when I wasn't studying, the former quietly watching over me in a strangely protective way, the latter asking innocuous questions about my divinity while occasionally drinking from a flask of Julie's manufacture. The last of the apple vodka, I would assume. Ciara had disappeared somewhere, and Armen was being harassed by Velarana over some issue or another. Something about flaunting magic. Admittedly, the smiling idiot's flaunting was very useful when conducting loud tests, as his lightning could produce equally loud thunderclaps if he wanted it to. Perhaps that's what she was complaining about. My fault, I guess.

On the day in question, I woke up at six o'clock in the morning, the sun creeping into the sky. Julie had crept into bed in the night, I discovered, leaving Tam wedged up against me in a pleasant way. The bed was big enough, Tam was drawn to heat in the night by instinct. I was quite content to stay there, until Tam poked me in the shoulder with the curve of her horned head, rousing me.

All for the best, as I was to inspect everyone in half an hour.

I climbed out of bed, getting a growl from Tam for my trouble as she buried her face in the pillow I left behind, trying to keep the warmth of it. The noise woke Julie up, who leapt up like she hadn't even been asleep. I was startled by the motion in my dazed state, almost falling over until I caught myself.

"I'm coming with you," Julie said, "We need to talk."

That sent a shiver down my spine of the bad sort.

"Sure, why not," I said uneasily, "Tam, are you coming?" I needed reinforcements.

Tam answered by tossing the pillow aside with a deep frown that creased her forehead as much as her mouth, and rose up as naked as she was. Neither Julie nor I were under any illusions as to what she was thinking. Something along the lines of 'I really don't want to get up, but I'm not leaving either of you alone'. Julie's tone had been that grave. Thank you, Tam.

So we washed ourselves with water I had brought up the night before, got dressed in our usual fashions, fatigues for Julie and I, loose Qunari garb for Tam, armour on top of both, weapons hanging off that.

I really missed running water, incidentally. It wasn't something I'd get to have again until a year and a half later. Then, it was hard to enjoy it with Pentaghast and Trevelyan kicking around the place. Not to mention that damned short-ass with the bizarre crossbow. And that was even before the sky decided to split itself open at the command of an immortal prick. I do digress.

We exited the château, which was bustling with activity as sleepy civilians wandered around to watch the show, and onto the parade ground. There the regiments were getting prepared for the day's events, which promised to be of great note to all concerned. Soprano's Rangers were already in proper order, the sharpshooters standing in perfect formation with fixed-bayonets glinting in the warm glow of the morning, the lancers and longbows drawn up alongside them. McNulty's Grenadiers were only arriving. Mike's Pikes had collapsed their weapons in two and were practising a quick march at the opposite end of the space as billmen.

I have to say it filled me with complete pride to see it. That I could muster such fine men and women in less than a day, and have them fully prepared to put on a parade or fight a battle in not much more time, was something I considered to be a great accomplishment. It still is.

The Baron asked about the capabilities of my troops in his letter, and it was my intention to show him those capabilities immediately. Absolutely everything was being readied for the display. Provided the nerves of the least experienced held, I was confident we could defeat any force of the same size in the world. The nobles needed to know that, preferably before they made decisions on the subject of resisting the Grand-Duke and his own lackeys.

"Well Sam," Julie said, inhaling a deep breath, "I can do a lot of things, but when it comes to this, you really do know your craft." Her eyes scanned my troops, her troops, like they were the soldiers of God. Perhaps she thought they were, angels come to rip up the chains around her country.

"The _antaam_ would almost certainly be defeated by them, unless they brought far more than we have," said Tam, sounding very pleased at that, "I am sure there hasn't been an army like them in all the history of this world."

That was true in more ways that mere armaments. Elves made up the bulk of course, it was the Dales, but there were humans too and even a few dwarva. There were mages, non-mages, and something in between. But we'll get to that. I suppose the Grey Wardens are the closest approximation in terms of both discipline and capability.

"Exactly," said Julie, turning to the two of us, "I was foolish to try and do this alone. I am not a general." She sounded like she was embarrassed.

"But you thought you'd give it a try anyway," I replied flatly, "Yes, that was a dumbass move." Throwing around propaganda and amassing a small arsenal of weapons without any clue how to fight a war beyond what you've read in books is truly not a good idea.

"The importance of everything got the better of me," Julie admitted, "And I disregarded your feelings." Which had been pretty strong at the time, and clearly stated.

"Yes, you did," said Tam, "But we cannot expect you to act against your conscience. I would still be a Tamassran of the Qun if I believed otherwise, and I do not wish to dwell on that." She made a face like she had eaten something nasty, her memories of the Qun coming back to her at that moment. Julie took her hand, snapping her out of it. I was glad she did, Tam's remembrances were unpleasant even to look at.

"Thank you," said Julie, planting a kiss on the Qunari's cheek.

Since we were clearing the air, I wasn't yet satisfied. We hadn't talked about this in a while.

"You decided to build weapons behind my back," I said, crossing my arms, "Without paying attention to any of my warnings about weapons getting ahead of ideas."

"Not the sort of attention you intended, no," Julie said.

"And then you go stirring the pot," I continued, "Promising bread and freedom to the peasants, victory and strength to the petty nobility, a place at the table to the merchants..."

"I did," she said, far less ashamedly than I had hoped.

"And you'd do it again in a heartbeat," I intoned gravely

"Perhaps not in the same way," Julie objected, "But yes."

I frowned for a moment, wondering how she thought she could have convinced me to get on board earlier. I didn't think it was possible. Not before I saw the savagery and cruelty of the Templars. Not before I had seen men, women and children starving in a mineshaft.

"If you're apologising, I accept your apology," I said quickly, not wanting to dwell on her deception much myself, "In the end, you were right and I was wrong. That's what matters. If I had my way, we would be completely unprepared right now, with no real allies to call on. What you did gave us half of Orlais to work with, and a lot of nobles on top of that."

I am really a man who values the ends as opposed to the means, provided the means aren't genocidal. Survival requires that some feelings get hurt, more often than not. That often strikes civilians as harsh, but I assure you, the point of this attitude is not to offend. I felt a lot better about Julie because of it. It was obvious she lied as much to protect me as to promote her own goals, and her own goals were extremely worthy and entirely unselfish.

"That does not make what I did any less..." Julie started, searching for the word, "..unkind." Couldn't argue with that.

"Then learn from the mistake," I said, still watching the efforts beyond.

Julie approached, bringing Tam along with us, green eyes ablaze. "I promise I won't betray you ever again," she said with absolute sincerity, "The three of us are bonded by the Maker, our meeting was fate. I believe that more than ever."

Despite my albeit shrinking doubts as to our fate, I still grinned like an idiot, and got a kiss for my trouble. Which I didn't have much time to appreciate before Tam brought herself around both Julie and I, warmly hugging us. I was certain at that moment that all the armies of tyranny and death could not resist us if we were united.

Well, as long as we had two particular elves with us. The two in question arrived promptly.

Armen padded up to us in his robes, clearing his throat to get our attention. I turned as Tam released me, and saw that Ciara was with him, back in her Dalish hunting garb now that the pilgrims had finally deemed it time to get lost. The mage was looking very pleased. It was a good day for his kind too, after all.

"You've made up, I see," he said, a sly smile on his face, "Took you long enough. The tension was tiresome." Months of unease.

We all groaned at the sight of him, and Tam hardened her stance as she always did in the presence of mages, friendly or not. I had not precipitated the full reconciliation as I should have, but I wasn't really in the mood to be reminded of this by the other guy who had kept quiet about the plans to overthrow the old order by force.

"By Andraste," Julie exclaimed, "You really are tedious sometimes, do you know that?"

"I know," Armen replied, "But one of us has to be, to protect us all."

"No one said it had to be you," Tam said.

"It would be strange if it was someone else," Ciara giggled.

Everyone except Armen nodded their agreement with that sentiment, while the man in question simply shrugged it away. We stood around, nothing to say but comfortable in each other's presence once again.

"So... today is the day that the war starts," Armen said.

"Most likely," Julie said, stepping out towards the parade ground a little, "We have to impress the nobles, but I don't think that is going to be an obstacle."

The proof was before us; disciplined lines of people willing to put their lives on the line, and take the lives of others, to follow our commands. It was a heavy responsibility, and one that would fall largely on my shoulders when we got right down to it. The others would have their roles, of course, but telling people to kill other people would be mine. It can weigh on the soul, if you aren't prepared or used to it.

"Can we win?" Ciara asked, "I mean, how many shem nobles are going to be with us?"

"Enough," Julie replied, "All we have to do is hold out against whatever is thrown at us by the Grand Duke or others. Other parts of Orlais will rise up against Gaspard when they see our success, The Empress will take advantage of the situation to remove him from the Game and make reforms. It's not like we have to march on Val Royeaux." Perhaps it would have been better if we had. Regardless, I was very surprised at this statement.

"Wait, _that's_ your plan?" I asked incredulously, "That's very... restrained."

"Of course," Julie snorted, "I _have_ read your history books, Sam. There's no need to invite our enemies to invade by trying to topple the Empress, when we can make her work for us. I am still Orlesian, I do not want to see foreigners take advantage of our uprising and I want to minimise the spilling of Orlesian blood."

Which made a certain amount of sense. By being moderate in her aims while appealing to the religious sensibilities of the country, Julie was aiming for maximum public support at all levels of society. There was no small amount of public support for Celene. And, if the higher authorities rebuked her reasonable demands, she would have the mob turn on those same authorities with a vengeance for putting the country in danger and for repressing the movement. Machiavelli would be laughing with glee at the notion, no doubt.

"In fact, the Empress may be the only person in Thedas who has the power to stand up to the Chantry," Armen noted aloud, "As long as she has enough popular support, elves and mages may find refuge in Orlais. If we succeed."

"Then you best pray that we do succeed," Tam said lowly, "Otherwise, death may be the easy path for us."

No one disagreed aloud, but didn't want to vocalise their shared fears either.

Shortly, our train of nasty thoughts was interrupted by the arrival of the Knight-Enchanters, marching through the main gate to join the others. They were not in any sort of order, simply arriving in clumps. Velarana, or Colonel Yesas Velarana to use her new title, was at the head of them alongside Delrin Barris and the Lucrosian leader, Adam Valle. Her battlemages had refused to accept the training I offered, so although they were very much a part of our little army, they were not trained to fight as a unit. I scowled as I saw them, wishing to whip them into shape but unable to convince them to let me do so.

The Colonel, the Templar and the Lucrosian all approached us, making little bows towards Julie and I, before the Colonel reported.

"The dockyards are ready, Marquis," Velarana said, "We will be able to parade down them with adequate room for spectators and the... display."

Clearing the whole length of the docks would have taken far longer, without magical levitations to speed things along. Of course, the Baron's glorified secretary had helped immensely, convincing the owners of the clutter to store things on their property on pain of large fines, but I defused any resentment for that by promising a feast for the dockyard workers afterwards.

"Thank you, Colonel," I said cheerily, "And thank you, _Monsieur_ Valle for your assistance with everything. The Tranquils are damned good."

The Lucrosian faction of the mages, those interested in making money as much as Leha was, had taken the Tranquils we liberated from the Wolf's Lair under their wing. After the Templar attack, Valle had come to me with a certain proposal, one that I accepted wholeheartedly. It had been one of the big reasons we were armed to the teeth by the time trouble came, and one of the reasons why our most powerful weapons had trained folks to use them.

"They seem content to do what you ask of them," Valle said, stroking his brown and grey beard, "But then, they are content with anything asked of them. I worry that they may become prime targets for our enemies..." Not an unjustified concern, I thought.

"And we will do everything in our power to protect them, while they help protect us," Julie said, shaking the man's hand, "Your support on this will go far." 

"I have to admit, it does seem like an excellent role for them," Barris said, "Using the Tranquil as servants almost seems like a waste now." A complete and utter waste, considering what we managed to get them to do. Considering their other previous role as sex slaves for unscrupulous Templars.

"I wouldn't get any ideas about making more of them," Armen said bitterly, "Useful or not." I shared the sentiment.

Barris glanced at me, to gauge my reaction, and found my face stoney with agreement. Wiping someone's mind like that was horrendous, and the necessity of it had not been demonstrated to me. Indeed, it was obvious that the vast majority of 'tranquilisations' were not done out of necessity, but rather to suppress dissent or supply emotionless workers to the Circles. Enchanting was big business, after all. The Templar didn't respond to the point.

"We don't need any more," said Tam, leaving the 'yet' unsaid. Armen seemed to take that as a prohibition and calmed down. I reminded myself to find some way to calm him down at these moments.

"My mages wish to rest, Marquis," Velarana said, maintaining a professional tone, "The Libertarians can march around for the Baron, but the presences of all of the mages might spark panic."

Opinion hadn't softened to the degree where there was absolutely no hostility to mages. The hardliners would make themselves felt in time, but I agreed that it was prudent to delay that hour for as long as possible. Out of sight, out of mind. To most, mages curing disease and building things was okay because those are useful things. Mages marching around might scare people. I blame Tevinter, personally, and I'm sure many would have agreed.

"No problem," I said, before Julie could put her boot in.

Velarana bowed and departed, Barris going with her. Julie crossed her arms and hmmed to herself once they were out of earshot, her brow creased in thought. A sight I see often, even today. The reason for it this time was the Knight-Enchanter's rather startling move to the top of the table in our little community.

"She is getting ambitious," Julie said suddenly, turning to Armen and Valle, "Is that going to be a problem?"

Both Valle and Armen looked at each other in amusement, the latter smirking more deeply than he had been already. A polite chuckle erupted from Valle. So, obviously it wasn't going to be a problem.

"Colonel Velarana is under the impression that she is the senior enchanter of our new 'Circle', so to speak," Valle explained, "And while she does command the largest fraternity presence, I have aligned my Lucrosians with the Libertarians as a counterbalance. The Colonel is simply displeased at the development."

I smirked myself at that, glad to see that the mages were not too holier-than-thou to engage in a little infighting. It was a sign they were getting comfortable, which was all the better for us. No doubt Julie thought well of it too, albeit in a more divide and conquer way.

It is perhaps the greatest irony of our existence that this rather minuscule disagreement between the mages would lead to the fully formed democratic political system we see today.

"Just as long as no one is throwing lightning around trying to kill one another," Tam intoned, "We can all get along nicely without that."

Considering that offending parties would taste my boot-heel if they did start that sort of crap, a chuckle escaped my lips at the very idea of Velarana starting anything. She knew as well as I did who would end up winning that fight, and how costly such a conflict would be. Her own moderate nature restrained her ambitions too, and it was that combination that would keep the mages firmly at our side through the turmoil of the years following.

 


	50. The Barons' Revolt II

The Baron's ornate barge finally arrived a little after high noon, a brisk breeze blowing upriver helping things along to the extent that rowers weren't required. It was one of the great advantages of the riverways in that part of the Dales; to go upstream you could sail, to go downstream you could let the swell do the work without much worry about running aground. The barge itself wasn't a large craft, in fact it wasn't much larger than a half dozen wagons length wise, but it was accompanied by a large number of smaller _bateaux_. The Baron's sigil, a castle with flames spouting out of the top of it, waved proudly alongside the royal banner on the prow. It was something to see, certainly.

I think we outclassed it as an attraction though.

Crowds packed onto the tops of the wall, onto roofs of warehouses and into the raised space between the dockyard and town wall itself. All wanted to see what would happen. Awaiting the Baron, Baroness and their noble allies was one thousand, two hundred professional soldiers.

Musketeers, sword-grenadiers, longbowmen, crossbowmen, mages, lancers and pikemen. Glistening bayonets on muskets held to attention. Short swords and curved shields in front of stick-grenades. Broadswords sheathed, and roundshields held together with bows. Crossbows held out like rifles. Pikes held half-haft at rest. Lances over shoulders, reins in hand. Armour ranging from chainmail over padding to ex-Templar plate, almost all of it stripped from the dead. Round helmets on all of their heads, all-metal clones of my own. Deadly weapons, but most of the people holding them had not yet seen a real battle. I did not bother hoping that they never would, it was a foregone conclusion by this point.

The regiments had their own banners, all based on the same design chosen by Julie after the Templar attack. A large white five pointed star on a blue field. Bonnie blue flags, to people of my world. Of course, each unit had small variations. Soprano's Rangers had crossed muskets flanked by arrows on the star, for instance.

And of course, there were the new, terrifying weapons I had helped create. Twenty-one cast iron, silverite-bore rifled cannons. Fifteen light cannons, for use in field battles. Five heavy cannons, for cracking walls. One heavy siege gun, for annihilating anything tougher than a regular wall, a weapon that could have sunk a Qunari dreadnought with a single shot. Their long black barrels aimed across the quiet streaming of the river,

All of them were lined up at the edge of the water, with just enough room to load, their wheels raised and support struts in place. Around them, the Tranquil stood at the ready, cannon-ramming devices held like pikes. Fifty of them had come with us from the Wolf's Lair, but more came out of hiding with a few mages that had fled with them for their own protection. Fighting was the role we had discussed earlier. Without them, we never would have been able to train people in time, and the Tranquil learn very quickly indeed. Without emotional clutter and utterly unquestioning, they made perfect soldiers in theory. As we awaited the barge to moor, they were stood at unnaturally perfect attention, the sort that would have hurt the ordinary soldier. The sight sent a shiver down my spine. It wasn't easy to forget how they were made that way, and it wasn't the only thing sending me shivers.

I was watching this from a podium, the same one Julie used for her speeches that we had moved to the docks, rubbing my hands together as the breeze cut into me and muttering to myself. Not the most dignified sight, considering there were more than a few gazes upon me at the time. Most of us were in Earth panoply, even Ciara and Leha, although they looked ridiculous due to their size. Armen was the exception as always, keeping to his always-spotless Circle robes. That no one else was shivering but me despite our uniforms being designed for desert wear made me feel even colder. I was quickly noticed. Julie quickly stuck her left hand between my own, stopping my movement dead. Her hand was very warm, by some miracle.

"Thanks," I said, clutching the hand for a moment like it was a life preserve, before taking a set of gloves she offered.

"You're still cold," Julie said, matter-of-factly, "We'll get some hot tea in the _Palais_ later." There was better refreshments than tea waiting for me, and had I known, I would have rushed off immediately. Alas, I did not know.

I nodded, pulling the gloves on quickly. It felt much better, even with the prospect of a summit with a bunch of inbred nobles ahead of me. Tam let out an amused breath at my obvious relief, having watched us closely the whole time and moved still closer. Before settling into a more straight pose, anyway. I wondered why, and turned to see servants attaching the barge to a ramp.

The Baron stepped off the vessel and onto the docks first, closely followed by the Baroness and two small children. All of them were wearing red masks and smart grey silk clothing that was positively spartan by Orlesian standards. The Baroness's mask was the restrained variation I remembered so vividly from Halamshiral, but the children wore the same, elaborate design as their father. The masks were obviously too large for them, which was cute, and they had to be led by the hand of their mother. A cheer went up as they exited, followed by some trumpets sounding a brief salute, as was appropriate. The royal governor had returned, after all. The waving of blue banners in the crowd intensified as the Baron gave a wave.

"Call that a salute?" Tam snorted, "We're going to shake their bones." I smiled at that. We had tested the cannons, and let's just say there was a reason we needed magical thunder to cover our tracks. Though, this was the first time we would ever fire the weapons at maximum range. That is to say, with full gaatlok charges in an open space at proper elevation.

"Better hope the damned things don't blow up on us," Leha grumbled, "We're a little close to avoid dying if that happens." Which was true. However, Julie and Armen had measured the strength of various compositions of gunpowder to a tee by this point, and combined with good knowledge of metals, were as sure as they could be about the tolerances of the cannons.

"I could stick you in there head first," said Armen to the dwarf, "And they would still be perfectly safe." Leha frowned, doubting it.

"Look at those shems," said Ciara, pointing when she really should not have been.

My eyes moved from the Baron and his family, now proceeding along the docks, inspecting our troops, to the others.

A large procession of adults and children streamed off the barge. About twenty adult nobles, most in garb that looked more like a multi-level cake than something you'd deem appropriate to wear. The skirts of the women could have hidden two men underneath them with ease, an enduring fashion in Orlais that we ourselves would exploit some years later. They were accompanied by mostly elven servants, and the masked children were led off by these rather than their parents. I found myself quietly admiring the Baroness for her more direct approach, rather than palming off the parenting job on some poor maid. Then I remembered she tried to have me killed, more than once, and my sympathy dampened.

The whole flock of them walked along the open space between the water's edge and the ranks of my soldiers, gawking and talking among themselves. It was like watching a puppet show, because of the masks. They were of every colour, from subtle dark blue to radioactive green, some had gilded rims, others had pearls or jewels encrusted along the edges. Most were shaped like human faces, but one man's was a silver and black skull shape, with a chevalier's yellow feather flowing off of one side. He seemed the most interested in the troops, taking up the rear with a younger woman as a result of his interest.

I found myself a bit bewildered that such people could want to support Julie's cause, given how feverish her criticisms of such excess was. There was no time to sort out my thoughts, as the Baron climbed the stairs and joined us on the platform with his family.

"Marquis, Marquise, may I present my children, Antoine and Océane," the Baron said in Orlesian, putting his hands on the shoulders of the kids as they stood in front of them, "Children, this is the Marquis and Marquise de la Fayette." Ignoring all those without noble titles, as you can imagine. The eyes of the children briefly fixed themselves on Ciara and Tam, this being the first time either of them had seen a Qunari or a Dalish elf, but they were too well bred to go beyond that.

"A pleasure to meet you," the kids said in unison, curtsying slightly. The son was about eight, and the daughter six. I wondered how the hell they were trained to act so politely. I could have never been like that at their age. Orlesian tutors were almost as strict as tamassrans, of course.

"It's a delight to meet you too," smiled Julie, switching to Common while she crouched down to eye level with them, "We have a surprise for you, but you must promise me not to be scared. It's going to be loud." I thought this would raise hackles from the Baroness, but Orlais is a different planet. Mistresses are part of the Game, at least for nobles. The two children got a little excited, and a little more curious.

"Why don't you have a mask?" asked Océane suddenly, rubbing her hands together. That produced a laugh from Baron, who muttered about it being a good question to his unamused wife. Julie thumbed over her shoulder to me.

"My loved one is from a land where they do not wear masks," Julie explained, "So I do not wear one in public, most of the time." She still had one, of course, and not only a _bourgeoise_ half-mask like her sisters either.

"But how can you be a noble without a mask?" asked Antoine in confusion, "It means everyone can see your face!" Even I snorted at the urgency of the little guy's tone. Being able to hide one's reaction behind a mask is of course useful if talk is the weapon used publicly. My weapons were a little more overt than words, so I didn't need a mask, but I couldn't exactly tell him that.

"Nobles in other countries don't wear masks either," I said, "But they're still noble."

I expected some disagreement, or a point about how foreigners were inferior, but instead I got stunned silence. The children stared at me like I had two heads, which was very disconcerting, masks or not. I glanced at Julie, to see if she had some explanation. She didn't.

"What?" I finally asked, after a minute of this.

"You sound funny," Océane declared.

"Like a dwarf," Antoine added, his grey irises moving to the silent but observant Leha. I wondered where he had met dwarves, but Halamshiral had no small amount of trade with Orzammar, second in Orlais only to Jader in that.

"That is certainly true," the Baroness said, "Do all people from your... country sound like that?" She refrained from using 'your world', I noted.

I shrugged off the question, not particularly bothered to explain the milieu of American accents, nor my own rather standard timbre with a bizarre mix of Virginian and Bostonian. I had heard about my accent a million times before by that stage.

Ciara let out a giggle, as the children looked up at their parents for what to do next. "They're adorable," she thought aloud, not caring that it drew the attention of the Baron and Baroness.

"Yes, they are," Tam agreed, successfully deflecting any ire. The Baron knew better, and the Baroness was too terrified of her to say anything negative. The feelings were there though, at least in the case of the Baroness.

Before anything more could be said, the rest of the nobles began filing up onto the platform, and they gathered expectantly. The Baron waited until they were all ready, before addressing them.

"My friends, this is the Marquis and Marquise de la Fayette," he said, "Lord Samuel Hunt, and Lady Julie Marteau. The ones who will, hopefully, free our country from her malaise."

Having placed the huge burden on our shoulders, the Baron withdrew to the safety of his family's arms, leaving us in the firing line. The nobles locked onto us like a lioness stalking its prey. It was unnerving, even to us. So much so that neither Julie or I said anything. I even gave a small wave like a fool, which didn't get a response. I felt the air thicken with the tension, the expectations being measured.

One of the nobles, the skull-masked man who had taken the time to check my soldiers out, cleared his throat. "Well then," he said in a deep tone, "It is good to finally meet you."

The tension lifted immediately, like fog in the morning clearing, as audible breaths were taken. Contrary to his rather intimidating mask, the man's voice was kind and firm, demanding recognition of his authority by its very nature. He was clearly older than anyone else present, which helped. Julie stepped forward and shook the man's hand.

"And we are glad to meet you, who care about your country so much as to come here to meet us," Julie said, every word pouring with appreciation, "I hope we can work together to make Orlais glorious once more." The words were that of a politician, but the tone was that of a patriot. Even I felt my morale restored by them. The nobles looked between one another, and affirmative noises made, as they stepped forward to greet us in turn. Another cheer went up from the crowd, the banners waving furiously now.

"Marquise, may you introduce me to these others?" Skull-Mask asked politely as the rush ended, "I have to admit, they intrigue me." We were an interesting bunch, to say the least.

"Certainly," said Julie.

Armen moved forwards, the ambitious little scoundrel, and placed himself so that he would be the first to be shown off. Julie's eyebrow twitched slightly at the movement, clearly not liking that he had cut off Tam, but the Qunari did not seem to mind, so she continued seamlessly.

"This is Armen Cartier, one of the senior enchanters of the Hearth Circle," Julie explained, "He was instrumental in helping me to create a better understanding of mages, and how they can serve the Empire." That is to say, that locking them up benefits no one. The Divine's writ of foundation for the Circle had arrived with Mother Brandon's letters, giving official sanction as a Circle under the command of the new 'Knight-Commander Delrin Barris'. Word of that had reached Halamshiral long before it had reached us.

Some of the nobles did not step forward to shake his hand, but most did gracefully. Armen looked very very pleased with himself, and in a way, he had a right to be. Julie's hand wasn't the only one at work in the machinations that had made that day possible. Regardless, the introductions continued.

"This is Leha Cadas, the foremost merchant in Hearth," Julie said, Skull-Mask following her with the young woman in tow. I noticed then that the woman's mask was in the same colours. A relation of some kind.

Leha made a bow, and shook hands with Skull-Mask only, content to simply nod her greeting at the other nobles, the nobles content to receive such a greeting. Dwarves were a bizarre exception to the social rules in most places. I still thought it a little rude of Leha, considering the situation.

"Ciara des Sabraes, a representative of the Dalish," Julie said as they approaching the she-elf, who was beaming despite what was quite obvious hostility.

"Ahh, this is interesting," said Skull-Mask, ignoring the hostility entirely with the air of a man who had seen too much to care about such trifles, "Is your clan with us in our... venture?"

"No, I am here on my own," Ciara replied, shaking his hand, "More of a witness than a representative, really."

Skull-Mask laughed at that, nodding. "An adventurer then," he said, "Such people are always useful, I am glad to have you." The man was climbing in my books by the minute, to say the least. Ciara's too, if her expression was any indication. That said, only the woman with Skull-Mask made the effort to shake Ciara's hand. Most didn't even give her a look, once Julie had moved on. That prejudice was hard to break. City elves were at least Orlesian in some way. The Dalish might as well be from Mars.

Of course, it came to Tam's turn.

"This is Tam," Julie started, "A great scholar and a warrior."

"A _Qunari_ scholar and warrior," Skull-Mask said, almost accusingly, "I do not mean to be rude, but how do we know she is not a spy?" Evidently, the old chevalier was familiar with the Ben Hassrath, whom could most readily be described as scholar-warriors to some degree. There wasn't much hint of racial hatred in his tone, merely practical concern.

"She is our mistress," Julie explained, "And aside from that, we met an agent of the Qun by surprise some months ago. He attempted to take her by force. She could not have communicated beforehand to set up a deception, so you need not worry about it." Skull-Mask regarded Tam for a moment.

"I understand your suspicion," Tam said, "But let me assure you, I love the Marquise and Marquis. I would never do anything to harm them." Count on Tam to keep it sharp and on point. Still, her hand rested on the handles of her longsword and dagger. She might as well have added 'I would do anything to harm those who would harm us'. Classic Tam, warming my heart by saying the exact right thing.

Skull-Mask turned to his companion, before seeming to accept the explanation. Realising that he had done some damage with the inquiry, he opted to defuse any offence taken.

" _Our_ mistress?" he said with amusement, glancing at the three of us, "What a spectacular arrangement! I don't suppose there is room for one more?" The man slapped me on the back and roared with laughter, a more restrained one erupting from the nobles. Armen's grin widened. Julie shook her head with embarrassment, not expecting such an immediate tack away from hostility.

"You are too old for it," the Baron said, "Your heart would give out before you could enjoy it." Even I laughed at that.

"We are full up, I'm afraid," cringed Julie, still managing to maintain a polite smile, "Though you flatter us."

"Of course I do, you are beautiful, ambitious people," Skull-Mask said, "Like me." If the nobles were less haughty, I imagine groans would have been the response to that. I think we all decided we liked the man then and there, and so he was allowed to take a place beside us with his companion.

"It is time for the salute," I said, "A demonstration of our new capabilities." The accent again raised eyebrows, or would have if they had been visible, but the nobles looked out onto the docks again.

"Colonel Soprano," I said, over the radio, "Artillery salute." That got mumbles of curiosity from behind me.

"Yes, Marquis," she replied.

The Rangers marched from the end of the line in formation in perfect parade order, muskets shouldered, past the podium. The crowds went silent, as a drummer led the way down the docks, beating a one-twenty pace. When they drew level with the cannon batteries, they stopped dead, turned, and the column split into a double line facing outwards.

" _Presentez vos armes!_ " Soprano shouted.

The entire unit held their muskets out and stood to full attention with a stamp of their feet, as the Tranquil began loading the cannons. As they had done much of the preparation beforehand, this took mere seconds.

" _Salut!_ " Soprano roared.

" _LIBERTÉ!_ " shouted the soldiers in unison.

The band struck up what is now known as the Cannons' Chorus, but what I knew as the national anthem of Russia, an Earth-country with a … complicated history. A beautiful tune though.

Its chords were higher than I had heard before, but it shook the soul. Tam had selected it for that reason. The band played for mere seconds, before the command to fire was given with a hand signal from Soprano. The Tranquil gunner on the gun nearest us pulled the cord attached to the flintlock firing device. The cannon boomed, the shockwave of sound tearing through us, the spinning round ripping through the air and off into the distance. A familiar feeling to me, but utterly alien to everyone else.

It was the end of one era, and the beginning of a new one.

Gasps of awe and surprise from nobleman and peasant alike were drowned out quickly, as the cannons fired in a smooth succession every few seconds, sending more solid shot miles downrange into the uninhabited forest beyond the river. It was impossible to see what sort of damage was being done, as the trees obstructed the view, but it hardly mattered. I could tell that as a test firing, it was very successful.

The light cannons gave way about a minute later to the heavier ones, which were considerably louder. People in the crowd began covering their ears. Just as well that they did. When the siege gun thundered the final shot, it was an order of magnitude louder. The wall reflected the sound, surrounding us with it for a millisecond. When it stopped, all that was left was the smell of sulphur on the air and the tinkling of smashed glass hitting the ground.

The band had ceased entirely, stunned as much as anyone else. I turned around quickly, seeing that many of the warehouse windows had been shattered, wincing as I realised we would probably be forced to pay for repairs.

" _Qui sont ces têtes-rondes?!_ " exclaimed one noble lady in a fluster, before being comforted by the nearest servant. The loudest cheer of them all broke out a second later, the crowds never having seen such a thing before.

"Again!" shouted Océane, giggling madly, hands up to the dismay of her parents. I winked at the girl, getting a tilt of her head in return. She should have had a bright future.

"Whoops," I said, feeling a little guilty, "A little too much bang for our buck there." The others were as speechless as the nobles or the crowd. All except Julie. She narrowed her eyes, a hand on her hip, attention on the cannons.

"Don't worry about it," she said quietly, "The world is ours."


	51. The Barons' Revolt III

With the demonstration out of the way, the docks descended into a party atmosphere as planned. The soldiers quietly stowed their arms on wagons, the cannons were towed away and the Tranquils went with them. Kegs were opened, tables dragged onto the docks and the celebrations begun. All as cover for what was going to happen next. As we left, I looked back at the festivities, very much wanting to join them. Ciara did too, from her pained glances. I needed to be present for what was happening, and unfortunately, Armen wanted Ciara there on general principle.

Shortly, I found myself in the Baron's library, overlooking the countryside as before. The space was considerably more occupied than when I had been in the room before, although the children had been traded off for Mother Brandon and Delrin Barris, making it seem more crowded that the dockyards had been to my mind. The Chantry still made me jittery, mostly because of their political power.

The middle of the room, directly opposite the huge windows, was enclosed by a circle of a little more than two dozen ornate and comfortable chairs, paired off. I was sat on one such chair, directly opposite the Baron and Baroness of Hearth, with Julie beside me and Tam hanging off the back of both of our seats. Julie had donned her blue, red and white mask for the occasion, camouflage against her nerves. It was one thing to write about the nobles, it was entirely another thing to treat with them. She might have had a lot of knowledge from Earth, but she had little experience at this. I took her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze, as I was perfectly at ease.

The Baron, that glorious bastard, had brought back coffee. A metal mug of which was in my other hand, the first cup of it I had tasted in nine months. The Antivans got more than a few gold pieces out of me over the years as a result, Thedosian coffee is truly excellent. Everyone else was drinking wine, the heathens! I may be getting off point.

The other nobles, the senior ones and their immediate heirs, were arranged in twelve clusters. More than a few had military adjutants hanging around behind them, particularly those that looked the least military. This was the Dales, after all. The Avvars, darkspawn and most of all, other nobles, all vied for their slice of the cake. Even the most leisurely noblewoman employed a large number of household guards. All of the nobles present were large landholders, the rulers of towns, or both. I was briefed on every one of them by Armen, whom had extensive knowledge of Orlesian nobility from his time in Val Royeaux.

Alongside we nobles were two other groups.

An enthusiastic and very pleased Mother Brandon sat immediately to our right, enjoying embrium tea with honey. Zeal and ambition combined in her person, and it always would. She was the sort of person who once they got a taste of power, would fight tooth and nail to keep and expand it. Not unlike Julie, to a certain extent, but lacking in selflessness. I wasn't sure if I approved or disapproved. She was accompanied by Delrin Barris in his role as Templar Knight-Commander. He looked considerably less comfortable, both in his role and his presence at the summit. I reminded myself to raise the man's morale when I found a spare moment. I had been wrong about him, after all. He was a good man. He would become a great man.

The last group was the 'Circle' delegation sitting to our left, representing the mages of Hearth. Armen and Velarana together. The former beamed a grin around the room, a smiling Ciara and a sulking Leha flanking his seat. He was drinking coffee too, though he was sipping it from a smaller china cup, unlike my military-gulps from a decanter more usually deployed for ale. Velarana had no attendants, with crossed legs and hands resting one upon the other on her lap in a dignified pose. She even had a half-mask of silver polished to an extent that it was almost like a mirror, apparently a type reserved for senior-enchanters. No one seemed to question their right to be there, even among themselves. Elven mages no less. We had already changed something, at least. It gave me still more hope that we might succeed.

The other nobles were coordinated into three groups.

Skull-Mask sat to the Baron and Baroness' right. His real name and title was Lord Maurice de Villars, _Baron des Grandes-Collines_. He was by far the oldest noble present by at least twenty years, and was also the most experienced soldier of all of us. He was in fact the only other serious soldier aside from the Baron and myself. The silver and black of his mask was copied by his heir, his foster-daughter and grand-niece Lady Louise de Villars, who was a little younger than Julie but clearly well trained at the Game. Beautiful, with striking blonde hair and an uncommon athleticism clear in her figure. I would get to know her a little better during the course of the war, which remains a great pity considering what happened. Their lands were in the foothills of the Frostback Mountains.

Pierre, Skull-Mask, Julie and I made up the faction most likely to act. The other two were mostly based on personal loyalties.

The largest group by a country mile was that led by Lady Camille Doucy, _Baronne des Nouveaux-Landes_. She was spectacularly wealthy, perhaps the most wealthy person of her rank in Orlais. She was extremely well-connected too; her uncle was the chief of the university in Val Royeaux, an institution heavily favoured by the Empress. She possessed some of the most productive vineyards and cotton plantations in the entire world. Her wealth showed too. Her mask was a deep green, encrusted with rubies along its edge. Her very fine ruffled dress was in the same colours, green with red edging at the collar, sleeves and bottom of the skirt. It was less puffy than most too, which I thought a good thing.

Baroness Doucy was also an innovator of sorts, hiring many of her workers instead of tying them to the land in serfdom, finding she could cherry-pick the most productive workers in each season. An early capitalist, in other words. She could command the loyalty of six other barons and baronesses, all of them owning land in the hugely fertile region to the west of of the Hearthlands, bordering the Exalted Plains. They didn't have much to gain or lose, but had come out out of loyalty or out of ideological fervour for our new cause. Which would not bode well for later, but I digress.

The last faction was the southerners, a mixed bag. Their lands varied in size and wealth, as did their opinions. They tended to follow the largest landholder; Lord Henri Clouet, _Baron du Midi_. A large man, to be polite about it, he wore a bright orange mask using a fire motif. Their lands bordered the Emprise du Lion and the Emerald Graves, both areas largely controlled by nobles either loyal to Grand-Duke Gaspard or largely neutral in the developing conflict.

Along with Hearth, Clouet's lands were best known for manufacturing and artisans. Clouet and his allies had the most to gain from any actions we might take, in that the threat from the Emprise would be ended, but also the most to lose, as they were most accessible to the enemy. If we could convince them, we could flip the planters led by Doucy. I hoped our display of firepower had put us half way towards that goal.

The seneschal called order by smacking the butt of a ceremonial staff off the floor, making more of himself than anyone else thought of him. He was an arrogant little man of the sort with no real achievements of his own. The Baron thanked him, probably as we were burning time we didn't have, and stood up.

"Friends, it is time we discussed why we are all here; the liberation and strengthening of our Orlais," Pierre began in Orlesian, with flick of his wrist, "Some of you have seen this room before, some are new to my halls. No matter, I bid you welcome."

A round of self-congratulatory clapping began, with affirmations and squeaks of approval rounding out the cacophony. I rather wished he'd just get to the damned point, so I took another gulp of coffee, watching Skull-Mask cross his arms impatiently. His niece gave him a reproving look that eventually softened his stance. It was a good bit of sport to watch, while the others got the notions of how great they were out of the way.

Pierre turned to Julie suddenly.

"I must demand that we formally congratulate Julie Hunt, Marquise de la Fayette, for opening the eyes of the entire Empire," the man continued, "Without you, the corruption, the waste of lives both noble and common, and the degradation of Orlais' faith, all might have continued for centuries. Because of you, we can throw these vices aside! A toast to Lady Hunt!" The room lifted their glasses in salute to Julie, who sat as still as a statue, not having expected the gesture at all.

"Lady Hunt!" the room echoed, before generous sips were taken of the fine red wines, out of gold rimmed glasses.

I have to admit repeated flinches upon hearing Julie _Hunt_ rather than Julie Marteau, and Julie's own flinches were transmitted to me via her hand. I glanced up at Tam, and found her with a raised eyebrow. None of us had even the slightest inkling the Baron was going to say such a thing. Armen later explained why he had; while unwed to me, Julie was still a commoner. Her titles as Marquis de la Fayette and Baronetess of L'Ambassade were mere courtesies out of her betrothal to me.

The Baron had a lot of swing with the Council of Heralds, swing that had allowed him to have me recognised as a resident foreign noble, but no amount of favour could have bought a title for an unwed commoner with zero noble blood. Mother Brandon was in on it, having made up the Chantry papers in case anyone cared to investigate.

So, I was officially but falsely married.

Of course, all that made the fact that people with wagonloads of noble blood were saluting Julie all the more startling, a realisation that dawned slowly but relentlessly upon me. She would take my name until the disheartening end of what one must call the first phase of our little revolution.

"Congratulations," joked Armen, leaning over his chair so he wouldn't be heard.

"Shut your mouth," I said through a forced smile. The little shit knew full well that we didn't want to think about marriage because it would have excluded Tam. Plus it was a little early for that, by my standards. By Orlesian standards, Julie should have already been pregnant. Tam twice over.

The Baron called for silence once again, raising his hand.

"Now we must answer the real question," he said gravely, his lighthearted opening finished at last, "Do we go to war to achieve our ends? This is what we must decide." Pierre returned to his seat, signalling that he was opening the question to the floor. I was just delighted we were getting to the point.

Predictably, Skull-Mask spoke first.

"If I might correct you young nobles," he said, "It is very likely that war will break out even if we do nothing. All of us are loyal to the Empress, to her ideals and to her bloodline. Even without the Marquise's very fine words, which have moved many hearts, we are targets for the Grand-Duke and his partisans. The real question is do we pre-emptively strike, or wait for Gaspard to start the conflict for us." Appreciative hums sounded off from the southern faction, although Baron Clouet remained silent. Skull-Mask's far more extensive experience was showing, and no one dared fault him.

"Which do you believe is the wisest course, Baron de Villars?" asked Lady Doucy delicately, "Can we begin the war for our sovereign, without her permission?" If I were Celene, I'd be fairly annoyed if my subjects decided to kick off a civil war early. Doucy was not entirely convinced that an early war was the best idea, however. The question was more of a ruse, to poke holes in the case for war and to see how well the advocates for immediate war could patch them to her satisfaction.

"My Lady, I do not mean to trouble you with military matters," Skull-Mask replied, with the meaning that she should take his word for it like a good civilian, "But if we do not strike now, we will be on the defensive when the war finally does come. Instead of our armies besieging the fortresses in the Emprise and the estates further south, it will be Gaspard's vassals burning our fields and surrounding our châteaux." I agreed loudly wholeheartedly with that, as did Julie, Pierre and Cécile des Arbes, and of course, Skull-Mask's niece Louise.

Aggression is a cornerstone of victory in war, particularly when you have a set of advantages that your enemy cannot immediately match. We had mages and gunpowder, the enemy did not. If we waited, the enemy might successfully counteract these advantages.

Baron Clouet cleared his throat.

"That is not the only possible outcome," he said indignantly, "As long as we keep a good watch on the lands of our rivals, we can know when they muster their forces and where to ambush them on the road. We can stop their armies before they lay siege. There is no need to act impetuously when patience might win us the day. If we wait, Celene will join the fight, and the royal armies will aid us." He paused, looking over towards me from his position nearest the windows with intent.

"It also means more time to arm all of our troops with the new weapons we saw today," he concluded, his hands coming together as a steeple, "With which, we will be unassailable."

Murmurs of enthusiasm for that particular point bounced around, as much among the military men and women as the civvies. No one could doubt the efficacy of the murder-machines we had demonstrated on the docks. That the fearsome reputation of such devices was already established courtesy of the Qunari was all the better. On the other hand, I felt like someone had decided to kick me in the gut with a battering ram. My fears pushed their way to the forefront of my mind, and I foresaw all the worst ones becoming reality. A sea of corpses, all weighing on my soul.

As you can imagine, my disgust for Clouet's proposal was visible on my face. So much so that it turned conversation towards Julie and I.

"My Lord and Lady Hunt, you are the inventors of these weapons," Skull-Mask said, quieting the din of hope in the room instantly, "What do you think of that plan?" He was clearly hoping we would reject it, if his tone was any signal. Others in the room noticed my discomfort at the idea now too. Lady Doucy was particularly interested in what I had to say, and regarded me with cool attention, her eyes watching every twitch of muscle.

"Creating more of the weapons should not be a problem," Julie answered quickly, before I could put my boot in, "Any master-blacksmith in the Empire can create the fundamental parts. However, I cannot create enough _gaatlok_ for an army yet, and I will not give up the secret to its formula. To do so would put the recipe in Gaspard's hands, tied up with a bottle of champagne and our compliments. In fact, the longer we wait, the more likely it is that our enemies will gain that knowledge." I could have kissed her for that. Tam whispered something in her ear that I couldn't hear, but Julie frowned at it.

"Orlais' enemies may find our discovery and use of firelances and gaatlok to be extremely fearsome as well," the Baron helpfully chipped in, "I cannot see Nevarra and Ferelden standing by."

"They would likely invade before we had enough of the new weapons to conquer them outright," Skull-Mask nodded, "But the royal armies could hold them, as they have in the past." A ripple of pride went like a Mexican wave from either side of the man. Irritated with still more self-congratulation on their part, I made the mistake of groaning a little too audibly.

Lady Doucy was less than amused.

"Marquis, you have been silent," she said, "I think Lord Clouet's plan to be a good one, one that avoids bloodshed. What is your opinion?"

The room went deathly quiet, waiting with bated breath for my answer. A pin could have dropped and sounded off like our cannons at that point. Not one to be intimidated, I stared back at Lady Doucy for a moment.

"With respect, Lord Clouet has no idea what he is proposing," I said bluntly, "He is in fact asking that we unleash a whole host of terrible new weapons on a world with no understanding of the consequences of their use, or how to use them effectively. It would be a bloodbath, not a bloodless coup."

Discontent erupted immediately, their precious preferred plans laid waste by my words. Not caring one bit for their preferences, I simply drank my coffee and waited for someone to restore order. Lady Doucy finally managed to do so, before giving the floor to Clouet, who had turned an unhealthy red under his half-mask.

"Perhaps you say this as you mean to keep such powerful weapons for yourselves?" the fat orange-masked monkey asked impertinently, "I would remind the Marquis that although he may outrank us on his native soil, he is Baron des Arbes' vassal here. He has no right to refuse, no sense to refuse, and not enough soldiers of his own to refuse should we simply wish to take what we need."

A marquis outranked a baron by a several steps up the hierarchy, being above even a count, but my only formal Orlesian title was as Baronet of L'Ambassade, which ranked below baron by a step. Still, not bad for someone who was actually a commoner.

Several of the parties looked at each other nervously, having been drawn into the man's threat without permission. It was ridiculous to the point of not even warranting a response, of course. I just smiled menacingly at the idiot, causing his personal guard to reach for a sword. My hand put down my coffee mug on a small table, and reached for my handcannon, almost of its own volition. Things were getting close to losing control, our intent so obvious.

Armen saved the day by clearing his throat. He had been in a short and private conversation with Velarana and Leha just moments before.

"Lord Clouet, the Circle of Magi at Hearth would be _extremely_ displeased if you and your allies were to attack our home and our protectors," he said coolly, grinning away, "While we do not wish to appear to be taking sides, I beg you to consider the consequences."

In other words, fuck off from this line of inquiry before we decide to turn you into a frog. Most surprising was that Velarana appeared to be in full agreement with that sentiment, looking at Clouet like he was a rat who had just stood up on a dinner table. My eyebrows would have hit the roof, if such a thing were possible. I had no idea she felt so strongly.

The man himself was not dissuaded yet.

"Did you hear that?" he said, turning to the Revered Mother and Knight-Commander, "Are you just going to let them threaten me?"

"I heard no threat from the mages," said Brandon fiercely, "I heard you threaten to bring war down upon my flock, for no reason other than your own ends. Which would be a profane act under the gaze of the Maker. What about you, Knight-Commander Barris?"

"There are many precedents for mages defending their circles with their magic," Barris intoned knowingly, "It would be no crime for them to do so, should Lord Clouet and others decide to attack." The unspoken assumption being Barris would add his sword to our muskets and the mages' magic, should that happen.

"We all defend our friends and family to the death," Velarana added, "As it should be. Lord Clouet, we are offering you our friendship today. Please do not dishonour that gesture with vulgar threats."

The Knight-Enchanter's words were the final straw. Clouet's visible skin turned from red to a deeply pale tone, as he understood that he had been outmanoeuvred. He stood up, not without difficulty, and stepped in front of Julie and I with surprising grace. He bowed deeply before us, one hand on his hip and another held out in front of him in supplication. His black silk clothing shifting was the only sound to be heard before he spoke, as the room looked on silently.

"I withdraw my remarks, and humbly beg your pardon," he said with absolute propriety. I was stunned at the ostentatious move, but Julie was embarrassed enough to speak.

"We understand," she said, tone uncertain, "Your lands might be the first destroyed, your people the first killed, if we do not succeed in an attack. There is nothing to forgive, you were speaking in earnest." The man bowed again, less deeply and with more cheer. Lady Doucy seemed positively titillated, chatting about what had just happened. It appeared we were being mocked, and while everyone was distracted, I said as much to Julie and Tam. They were unamused at the prospect.

"Perhaps we can return to the point at hand?" the Baroness intervened, "Should we go to war now or wait for Her Radiance, Empress Celene, to declare it?"

Julie finally decided she had enough of the dance, and stood up herself, drawing herself to her full height.

"With respect, it shall not be anyone here who decides when the war will begin, nor shall it be the Empress," she declared, "The people have been awoken as much as you have. They demand their natural rights. What you must decide now is whether or not you shall support them, and deliver your country new strength, or if you shall ignore their wishes and have your lands bathed in the fires of war regardless. You are their betters by right of blood and obligations to them, shall you abandon your birthright and duties?"

She paused, unsure how to continue and needing air. She was far from the only one left breathless by those words.

"I will fight with them and for them," she said at last, "To my dying breath."

Her green eyes peered over to Tam and I, making us aware of just who she was talking about. My love for her rose in my chest, as did my pride in her words. Tam put her hand on my shoulder from behind, and I put my own over hers.

Skull-Mask rose from his seat with a heave-ho, helped up by his niece, and scanned the room to make sure everyone was listening. He pointed at Julie.

"I cannot sit idly by while this woman of common blood outdoes we fine nobles at being noble," he boomed, before turning to Julie, "We are with you." His hand became a fist, then both uncle and niece placed their hands over their hearts, and bowed their heads briefly in the traditional Orlesian military salute. We knew that they would be joining the effort from the beginning, but Skull-Mask had the longest bloodlines of anyone present, or so I would learn later. His declaration was a powerful statement.

"It would be remiss of me to fail to support my vassals in a time of crisis," the Baron joked, "I am with you too."

"I don't want my children to be killed by some bard for the lands of their father and mother," the Baroness added, throwing in her two pieces, "Orlais must change." Revealing her primary motivation for supporting us. And to think, she had been arguing to have me executed three seasons earlier. The Baron repeated Skull-Mask's military salute, while the Baroness curtsied.

"The Circle of Hearth pledges itself to the cause of Orlais," Velarana said, "There can be no greater honour." Armen came up beside her. "And no greater opportunity to prove our worth," he added, "Through this, we will prove to the world that a free mage is not simply to be shunned." Both bowed at the waist, holding their staffs with a hand each and tomes of magic with their other, supported by an ironic bow from Ciara, and a terse and shallow one from Leha.

"My turn, I guess," I said, getting up on my feet, "This is not my land of birth, but I can make it my country." As long as I was with those I had come to trust to my very core, that is. There wasn't even a question of whether or not I would fight, but I felt I needed to make the commitment verbally. Tam stepped inside the seating to join me. Julie smiled. I looked to Lord Clouet. The next domino, the last weight needed to push us over the edge.

The Baron du Midi remained seated, but spoke nonetheless.

"Support for your words is particularly strong among my vassals," Clouet said slowly, "It would be extremely unwise of me to oppose you, and if you can raise the common people and elves in our cause, then victory is assured. However, I do expect you to share your weapons, when the time is right. Is that acceptable?" I thought it entirely unacceptable, but I wasn't calling the shots at this point.

"It is," Julie said immediately and without hesitation. She had a plan for dealing with this problem, of course. Namely that she would make sure we were at the cutting edge of technology, while the rest got hand-me-downs. Clouet stood and inclined his head, joining the accord, satisfied with her words. The other southern nobles with him followed suit. We thanked them, genuinely glad to have resolved the hostility between us.

Which left the westerners under the _Baronne des Nouveaux-Landes_ as the only holdouts..

Furious whispers among the nobles of her faction were silenced with a hand, as she rose up, flattening the green of her green down with the other palm. Lady Doucy paced to Julie, took her shoulders, and kissed both cheeks of her mask. Finally, stepping back, she curtsied, drawing shocked gasps from her followers. Marquise or not, Julie was still of common blood, and had yet to bear 'noble issue'. I watched the two women stand off for a moment, wondering what would happen next.

"Well played, my Lady Hunt," the Baronne said with every ounce of sincerity, "We shall support you." Lady Doucy was obviously not in this for her hatred of the Game, at any rate. We never discussed why she believed in message of _Le Sens Commun_ , but I always suspected it was due to disenfranchisement over taxes. Comtesses, marquises and duchesses made the tax laws, not baronesses. Baronesses had to pay. Like I said, she was an early capitalist.

"We will support each other," Julie replied, as the other lords and ladies of the western group stood up to join us.

Tam and I stood by Julie's side for the whole night, as toasts were made and general plans laid. Red wine flowed, causing idle and unimportant conversation to do so as well, much of it about happenings in Halamshiral over the winter and who was on what side of the new conflict. The relatives and children were invited to join in, including Élodie and Claire, despite the former's condition. Even Ciara was appreciated as the night stretched on, the alcohol and good atmosphere melting prejudices away faster than ideology ever could. It was a very pleasant party, to my great surprise, and we finished the night in bed more or less assured of Julie's previous words; that the world was ours for the taking.

That is how the conflict now known as the Barons' Revolt began, with great hope and hubris. With noble and commoner finally united, rather than divided.

Many who were at the party that began the revolt would not be alive at the war's conclusion.

 

 


	52. Those That Solve I

The day after our party, hungover as high hell, we came together one last time to decide on leadership and make a general statement as to our intentions. The conversation was long and tedious, concerning many technical matters. As such, I feel it is best to explore the decisions we made in order of the actual consequences.

The statement has survived the years, and although written in stone in our new home, many reading this may not be familiar with it. It was written in Orlesian of course, a language I have spoken far more by this stage than my own mother tongue, but I shall produce it in Common here.

_A Proclamation from the Dales._

_Occasionally, during the course of the life of the Empire, it becomes necessary for people both common and noble to take up arms in opposition to laws and personages intending to do them harm. Many such occasions have arrived over the course of our proud history, and for better or worse, have shaped the present circumstances in which we find ourselves._

_Another such moment has come, in which the events that were until recently tolerable have become intolerable, the nobles and commons awoken alike to the dangers and miseries piled upon them._

_However, it is still with great reluctance and great purpose that any such use of arms must be undertaken. To spill the blood of a fellow Orlesian without due cause is an affront both to the natural laws granted us by the Maker, and to the honour which is due to Orlais herself._

_When usurpers and child-murderers threaten to sink the whole Empire beneath a rising tide of blood, all the while demanding the people kneel before the culprits, it is the right and duty of the people, both great and small, to refuse such audacity, and seek comfort in armed force._

_The crimes against us are numerous._

_An absolute tyranny has been imposed upon us. Laws have been passed to the effect of making the pillaging of our property, the murder and rape of our loved ones, and the degradation of our persons before mere mortals not only legal, but commonplace. Yet no matter how dreadful and tragic the results of these legislations, we have been left with no road to overturning them, except to go begging to uncaring dukes and counts for our relief._

_Taxes have been levied to our ruin and not for our benefit, for the glorification and beautification of others, forcing the commoner into starvation, turning the noble into a thief among his vassals. When payment of these dues has been refused, armed bands of chevaliers and foreign mercenaries have been sent to sow the works of death and destruction throughout the land._

_Courts of law, supposedly established for the provision of objective justice, have been subverted, the judges and officers made slaves to the very highest authorities, evidence thrown away in favour of hearsay, sentences levied harshly._

_The strength of the Empire has been sapped with numerous bloody wars and skirmishes, none of which have produced victory or longlasting peace. The cost in coin and of empty chairs at our hearthsides means nothing to many of the warmongers among us, yet these same men and women refuse to allow our elven and mage subjects the opportunity to add their strength to any efforts, even though they worship the same Maker and owe the same allegiance to the Throne of Val Royeaux._

_The threat of civil war now hangs above us; a war that would remove the rightful ruler of this Empire, with all the hope of redemption and change that she represents; a war without benefit even in victory and certain to cost yet more blood, yet more gold, and yet more precious rights, none of which shall be taken from the benefactors. Our sovereign, held hostage by the whims of a violent band of traitors, seems almost powerless to stop it, for fear of igniting the worst of man's excesses._

_Therefore, unable to seek redress through the normal means, We, the People and Nobles of the Dales, do declare that a state of war exists within the borders of our territories and those of our enemies, that we have the sole right and power to levy taxes and create commerce, that our affairs shall be governed for the People by a viceroy until such time as an assembly of notable lords and commons can be gathered, under the guidance of her Radiance, Celene I, Empress of Orlais._

_We place our endeavour under the most high protection of the Maker, with full confidence in our arms, our fortunes, and our honour. We pledge to make all efforts necessary for the inevitable victory, that shall bring freedom, justice and peace at last._

_Proclaimed, the sixteenth day of Nubulis, in the Thirty-Ninth Year of the Dragon Age_

_Signed,_

_Samuel Hunt, Viceroy of the Dales, Marquis de la Fayette._

_Julie Hunt, Marquise de la Fayette_

_Camille Doucy, Baronne des Nouveaux-Landes_

_Cécile des Arbes, Baronne du Hearth et de la Montevillain._

_Pierre des Arbes, Baron du Hearth_

_Maurice de Villars, Baron des Grandes-Collines_

_Louise de Villars, Baronne des Grandes-Collines_

_Henri Clouet, Baron du Midi_

As you can see, and as you probably already knew, the gathering of nobles chose me to lead this little insurrection.

By rights, it should have been Baroness Doucy's job, as the largest landowner, or Skull-Mask as the most experienced military commander. Some have suggested that Julie, as the instigator of the whole insurrection, would have been more appropriate, even as a common-born Orlesian. This particular decision has caused some level of confusion among historians, at least among foreign ones.

Of course, the reason why Lady Doucy couldn't have been our leader was fairly obvious; she was perhaps the least military of us all. She could manoeuvre at court better than any of us, she could have an individual poisoned or stabbed to death, but if confronted with an army, she would have had to rely on the experience of others. We were going to war, we needed a marshal.

Skull-Mask, for all his virtues and experience, was the guard of the old order, a way of war that my very arrival had made obsolete, and one rooted in chevalier honour. The war to come would not be a matter of honour, regardless of our very fine words. He knew nothing about the deployment and use of firearms, their advantages and disadvantages. Not that he would have lost. He had fought in Ferelden, after all. No, his ways would have resulted in too much loss, ultimately.

Pierre des Arbes, Hearth's own son, was hardly much better in that respect either, but most of the spare productive population in his lands was now in my employ, either as soldiers or labourers. Most of his strength was derived from my own by this stage, although by no means all of it.

Julie had the moral force of an inspired politician, inventor and philosopher, as well as the popularity of a commoner-making-good, but she was no general. Not to mention she wanted the job badly, and much of the group were not inclined to give the position to any common-born person. I was very glad when she was outright ruled out for it. It would have painted a target on her back. I was used to having one there.

Ultimately, despite all the good objections to the other candidates, I got the job because I wanted it. Having been led into the situation without much choice, I was hell-bent on determining the course of events by my own hand. Not that I said as much, that would have disqualified me as much as Julie's enthusiasm had. I simply pointed out the flaws in the other potential candidates quickly and firmly, once Julie had been put out of the race.

The others seized the idea of my leadership swiftly, my cause boosted by one other convenient idea; that if we failed, the barons could quite rightly claim that they were coerced into armed revolt by the power of the mob, armed to the teeth with gunpowder weapons and supported by apostate battlemages. All of whom owed their allegiance to me. Funnily enough, that is how it would have went had they opted for peace at any rate.

And so, that is how I was chosen to be the rebel Viceroy of the Dales.

Julie put together the proclamation, deriving its structure heavily from a few famous Earth documents, and the real leaders all signed it in order of precedence. I was quite reluctant to have the thing sent all over Orlais, and it eventually went as far as Ferelden and Rivain, but apparently declarations of intent were commonplace when a military dispute between nobles flared up. The whole thing was greeted with nothing more than shrugs in Val Royeaux and Halamshiral, at least in public. It's entirely possible that almost no one there believed it would come to anything, although we know the Empress did read it at least. The barons and baronesses went home to what I thought was a very uncertain future. At the time, I was still pretty worried about it.

I was worried about the wrong thing.

While we were planning and putting our revolt into practice, so was another power, utterly determined to see us fail and see me dead.

It was just our luck that they had fertile ground to blow on the embers of religious revolt, and only frantic stamping on the resulting flames managed to save us from falling at the first hurdle. It was perhaps better than leaving things be while we marched off, letting the conflagration spring up in our absence with no one to stop the violence, but only just so.

* * *

The next day, March 17th, started off as pleasantly as it possibly could.

Élodie had gone into labour in the night, and by the time we had awoken, had given birth to her twins. Apparently, because of the security measures we had put in place, no one had been able to get a message through to us until then.

So, when we heard the news at breakfast the next morning, we made our way from the château to Élodie's home in the merchant quarter. Julie, Tam, Leha and I, the dwarf riding side-saddle behind me on Bellona, far less grumpy than usual. She knew Élodie quite well too, having worked with the woman's husband for a number of years. They shared a taste for profit between them, which was the real reason behind their mutual appreciation, I suspect.

Alas, we rode through the bustling streets wordlessly, with high anticipation.

Tying up our horses outside, we half-ran into the clean and respectable townhouse. It had everything one would expect to find in a middle-class house, at least according to the level of technology then enjoyed. Three soft red fabric covered couches arranged around the soot-stained brick fireplace. A coffee table in the middle. A stylised painting of Andraste in a corner, another table with candles on it propped against the wall directly below. Smooth wooden flooring, varnished darkly. Walls painted white. A steer stairway and a door to the kitchen at the back of the room. A window facing onto the street, the panes opened inwards with shutters half-closed over the space. In short, I would have had no problem living there myself. If I didn't have a château.

Élodie and her husband in the front room on the couch facing the front door, cradling a bundle of infant a piece, the mother red-faced but glowing with 'new mother' thing. She barely moved her eyes to acknowledge us even as she spoke a greeting, they were too busy glued to the sight of her children. I knew it well, my own sister had the same thing going when my namesake-niece was born. I felt a brief but painful pang of homesickness in my chest.

Julie moved into the room swiftly, and knelt down in front of the couch. I held back by the door, still affected by my regret that I'd never see my own family again. Tam stood with me, most likely out of a sense that she wasn't familiar enough to enter comfortably. Leha had no such scruples. She waltzed right in.

"They're beautiful," Julie said to Élodie, looking at the babies, "How are you?"

"Tired. Hurting all over," Élodie rasped with a smile, "But very happy. A girl and a boy, just so it's fair." Julie chuckled at that, and rubbed the side of the baby in her sister's arms. I crossed my arms, wondering whether I'd ever get to hold my own child. And whether or not things were too complicated to even contemplate it. Politically and personally. I glanced at Tam, who was almost succeeding in suppressing her urge to go over.

Claire appeared at the door from the kitchen with a tray of steaming cups, embrium tea from the smell, and approached.

"Are you two going to keep standing by the front door?" the youngest Marteau sister asked, "You're making me nervous." Not surprising, considering we were both armed. Tam and I looked at each other, and moved inside anyway, as Élodie waved us over.

"Come in, have a look," she said proudly, "Don't be shy."

So I approached where the couple were sitting, and stood by Julie, dodging Leha in the process. Tam leaned over my shoulder, and together, we looked down at the newcomers. Two pairs of deep brown eyes looked back up at us, widening slightly as they took note of our presence. A swirl of reddish-brown hair on the tops of their heads. Beautiful little kids, in other words. I withdrew quickly, sitting down on the opposite seating, utterly homesick now.

Tam and Julie both noticed, but said nothing. They knew I needed a little time. Tam sat down close beside me, which helped me rally a little. To think, I was to plunge the town into a war...

Claire interrupted with the tea, and both her sisters took one of the plain cups each, as did the new father. A quiet man, looking pleased with himself. As he had every right to be.

"What shall you call them?" Julie asked, shifting her weight on her knees to get more comfortable.

"We agreed that I would name girls, and Leodor would name boys," Élodie replied, "So the boy is called Patrice." I remembered the man's name after all. Hard to recall after all these years. Like I said, he was quiet.

"After my father," Leodor himself added, "I always thought it a good name."

As if fate were attempting to cheer me up, I remembered the date and grinned widely, forgetting my troubles for a moment. I must have made some audible sound too, as the others turned to me.

"It's funny because it's Saint Patrick's Day," I said in Common, knowing full well no one would know what the hell I was talking about, "Or Saint _Patrice's_ Day." Or so I thought. Tam let out a chuckle, and Julie smirked. Sorta hard to keep track of just what they knew, short of reading every book that I had brought through with me.

"You're right Leodor," Julie said, with a light slap on the shoulder, "It is a very good name." No doubt dreaming of driving out snakes herself. My part of Ulster-Scots heritage guaranteed my agreement, at the very least.

All the more so in that Patrice became a devoted follower of Mother Brandon, and was very much at the forefront of Chantry efforts against the Qun until very recently. Irony upon irony. The Maker is a humorous son of a bitch sometimes.

"What about the girl?" Leha asked, interrupting our little in-joke, "Am I going to be embarrassed?" That joke got the new parents smiling, and the rest of us rolling our eyes.

"Pay for her tutors and we'll see," Élodie replied in jest, "I was going to name her for our mother, but then my dear sister decided to try her hand at politics." The two younger sisters stared at the eldest.

"And now I'm a Marquise," Julie responded with a shrug, "You have to play to win." Summing up the attitude of almost every Orlesian in history, in any age or place.

"So, with everything that is going on, I chose another name," continued Élodie, before looking at the baby in her arms again, "This is Victoire."

Julie nodded, understanding the intent immediately.

Her sister's statement was pretty clear. She expected us to win, and gave her blessing by naming her precious daughter Victory. It was also a warning: Do not fail. It was a good name regardless, I thought. I was sent back into a melancholy, as I watched the sisters coo over the babies again. Tam didn't help, staring like a starved cat at a saucer of milk she can't reach.

Tamassrans were built for this sort of thing, after all. Or bred. Julie noted the look and waved our Qunari lover over, who padded over in an equally feline manner, kneeling down beside Leodor, a broad and soft smile across her face. A far cry from the sharp, canine-led grin I had seen on her the first time she had smiled in eyeshot of me.

A loud knocking on the door split the trance of admiration and idle chatter about the kids, causing a round of groans. No one coming to see the babies would have knocked. It was business.

Claire went to the door and checked who it was, before standing aside to let them in.

It was one of Soprano's Rangers, one of the new elven sergeants. She was dressed in green tunics and high boots, dress that we cobbled together as the closest thing to a standard uniform we could make, long firelance slung over her shoulder, cartridge belt around her waist, round cloth-covered helmet on her head. Knowing it was important but reluctant nonetheless, I stood up and left the space enclosed by the couches to meet her.

She stood to attention before me. "Marquis."

"It's viceroy now. Perhaps 'general' would be best... whatever," I replied, adding a sigh to the end, "Where is your salute, soldier?"

The woman looked eternally embarrassed. She had been distracted by the scene beyond, obviously, and made to correct herself. "Sorry sir, no excuse," she said, saluting perfectly. The familial scene before her, involving a group of famous and wealthy individuals, had startled her. Discipline starts with the small things, but I opted to ignore the slip, so I could get to the point. She got the picture.

"The Baron and Baroness of Grandes-Collines have arrived at L'Ambassade with a force of two hundred heavy cavalry," the sergeant reported, "I was ordered by the Colonel to bring you back as quickly as possible." The colonel meaning Soprano herself, of course.

I think my eyebrow could have made a moonshot attempt at that news. Just what the hell was Skull-Mask playing at? I was aware he had a personal guard that had been dispatched to escort him back home, but I couldn't believe that his intentions were hostile. The mages alone would have eaten him alive, never mind Soprano's sharpshooters or McNulty's bruisers. Hell, Mike could have shouted them off their horses before giving them the sharp end of the pikes.

That meant one thing of course; there was some news that I had to hear directly from him.

"What the hell are they playing at," I said, pinching the bridge of my nose, "Very well, lead on sergeant."

Tam and Julie got up to follow me, dutiful idiots that they are, but I held my hand up. "No, you can stay," I said quickly, "No point in all of us going home just so old Skull-Mask can show off his chevaliers. I'll be back as soon as I can get away from them." The pair accepted it, Julie's eyes thanking me wordlessly. She would have parked on that couch for a month if she could have gotten away with it.

I walked over to take another look at the babies. They were startled by my entering their vision again, and let out a loud, short protest, calming again with a rock or two from their parents. "Congratulations," I said to Élodie, "They're beautiful."

"Thank you," she replied softly.

And with that, I paced out of the room, the sergeant following behind. Her squad awaited outside, mounted up on ponies. Not wanting to wait around, I quickly untied Bellona, climbed up onto her and we were off.

* * *

As we rode onto the main thoroughfare, there was some commotion about the place, people milling about looking more worried than usual. Children were being grabbed by their parents and dragged off home, merchants with carts were turning about and moving towards the same gate we were heading for. The whole affair was getting in the way of our transit. I immediately became suspicious, scratching my chin as I watched the throng move.

"Sergeant, do you know what's going on?" I asked.

"Bar fight got out of hand down by the docks, is what I heard at the gate," she replied, with a shrug, "Sometimes these things spill into the street, and everyone's friend shows up to join the fun."

I let out a laugh. I knew how that worked. Sometimes, people just have nothing better to do, an effect that increases with alcohol in enclosed spaces and a larger number of males than females. We're all just monkeys when you get right down to it, a matter of some contention in Thedas now, but one I have never had any doubts about. Still, I couldn't have such things disrupting my plans. We were mere days away from a march.

"Should I be worried?" I asked.

"Don't think so," the sergeant said, "The Baron's guards usually nip it in the bud before it gets out of hand." Her pony dodged a cart a little too late, the alarmed driver waved and shouted back, getting a rude gesture from the soldier in return. The man was about to do something rash, until his eyes fell on me. Bored and annoyed as I was being dragged away from Tam and Julie, I jumped a little in the saddle towards him. He flinched, and all of us laughed at him. He definitely wasn't from Hearth, or he wouldn't have continued spouting insults.

"Well then, I guess we'll ride on," I said through my amusement, "Best collect Barris from the clinic, we'll stop there."

"The Knight-Commander is away on business, my lord," the sergeant told me. Already swamped with preparations for war, I blanched at that.

"Which means Mother Brandon is as well," I said, "Great." It was no time for vacations. The war was about to really begin. I cheered myself up that perhaps Lana had gone too, so there wouldn't have been any question of her wanting to come along on the campaign 'to make sure I completed my lessons' in Chantry lore.

I fell back into my homesickness, reminded again of my niece, riding silently.

 


	53. Those That Solve II

We rode out of the gate, through the Smith quarter, and out onto the road for the mile or so to our home.

L'Ambassade now had half as many people as Hearth itself, the thick forest surrounding it now considerably thinned out by construction work, new fields for cows and the bizarre druffulo, and the need to clear firing lines. The rolling farmlands beyond were now visible from the upper floors of the château, but on the ground, trunks had been replaced with buildings to obscure it. We kept the lines of trees to either side of the road though. As we approached, I was regularly taken aback by just how much our actions had changed the place as we approached the guard picket half way down the road.

The four troopers on watch saluted as we passed, their pony neighed, and we continued on.

The sight that greeted us was certainly magnificent.

Two hundred chevaliers were lined up across the parade ground in one long rank. They were standing dismounted, holding the reins of their heavy armoured warhorses. The horses were clothed in the grey and black of the Villars family, the chevaliers in their own colours of which there was a startling variety. Yellow feathers swayed in the light breeze from the crests of masked helmets. Sabres with jewel encrusted scabbards, gleaming cuirasses enveloping the bodies of the riders, black horses and black banners with a silver skull on them.

Opposite were my own elite, a sea of green uniforms. The officers had their own blue berets by this stage. The Rangers were mounted too, although only the lancers were on warhorses. We couldn't afford that many big animals. Yet. The Grenadiers, selected from the start for their physicality and being the largest men and women available, hardly needed horses to be intimidating. They weren't armed save for the sergeants, but they were armoured; a statement that they were welcoming friends rather than saluting superiors or preparing for battle. Their deep blue flags hung limp on the staff, the wind not enough to catch them, the star visible only as a sliver.

Perhaps the most obvious and interesting difference between the two bodies was that most of ours was that most of ours were elves, reflecting the general makeup of Hearth and its surrounding settlements, as well as the Dales more generally. You can be sure there wasn't even an elf-blooded human among the chevaliers. I wondered what the chevaliers thought of that. I would find out soon enough.

Between the two groups was another clump of people. Armen and Ciara, the former in his robes, the latter in Earth panoply. They eyed the chevaliers, ignoring the others. Soprano and McNulty, both in 'uniform', though they had earned their Earth kevlar too and were wearing it with pieces of plate armour attached. The two colonels were speaking to the last two guests, amiably enough as far as I could tell. Maurice and Louise de Villars, uncle and niece, Skull-Mask and Blondie. Their faces covered, their motives hidden. I had little choice than to simply ride up to them, dismount and ask why they'd park their personal guard on my doorstep.

So, I did.

Soprano's sergeant rode off to rejoin the ranks with her squad, the ponies' shoes tapping loudly against the cobblestones to the point that it jarred my ear a little. I nudged Bellona into the middle of the parade ground to escape. There were few spectators this time, to my relief. I dismounted half way to Skull-Mask.

"Viceroy," said both de Villars at once, bowing slightly at the waist. Making me feel bloody awkward. I would have preferred a real salute. Armen and Ciara stopped staring at the yellow feathers, and turned to me. I cocked an eyebrow at them for a hint, but none was forthcoming. Both seemed particularly unhappy. The colonels stood to attention, their faces blank, no help there. I set them at ease and turned to the nobles.

Frustrated, I was less polite than perhaps I should have been. "Villars One and Two," I replied, "I would have expected you to have returned to your own holdings to raise the troops I asked for by now."

Which had to happen quickly if we were going to get into the Emprise before the enemy could raise their own. Marching up there with my own plus the Baron's personal guard meant I could have left immediately, but even with all the new weapons and good luck, we would have lost.

The pair of masks looked back at me like statues. Taken aback by my strange reply to their proper manners, I guess.

"A message has been dispatched, and the small number you asked for will be ready soon," Louise de Villars replied, before her uncle could, "As you requested, they will have horses or ponies, all five hundred of them." There was some trouble about mounting them all, I had ordered that half the chevaliers be left behind with their horses. So I was pleased to hear that had been overcome. My mood lightened a little, I relaxed my stance and shook the woman's hand.

"That is very good to hear," I said, "But I'm guessing you are not here to give me that news."

"You guess correctly, Lord Hunt," Skull-Mask started, before continuing slowly and deliberate, "First of all, I would like to repeat my previous concerns about the size of the force you have asked us to raise. Ten thousand is not enough." I could tell that this was largely the soft reason for our little chat. More interested in the harder questions, I licked my lips and exaggerated a tad.

"I could take Val Royeaux with ten thousand," I replied, getting a cough of disbelief from the old man. Time to give the conceptual pitch.

"The Free Army will be able to run rings around any opposing force, bring more force to bear on a single point, will not need to siege castles for more than a few days because of our mages and artillery, and most importantly, it will be more motivated and disciplined than any army ever seen on this world." I wasn't exaggerating too much, but at this point the only part of the new army resembling my vision were the troops behind me, only about a third of my own troops.

"We can raise at least twenty times that number of fit men and women of age," Armen added, "The problem is we'd have to feed them, even if we could put swords in all their hands."

"Not to mention paying them," Ciara cut in, "Leha would kill us if we tried to spend 'her' money on soldiers drinking, whoring, and eating." The irony being heavy in that Leha loved nothing more than to do those things herself, the cheeky wench.

Lady Louise crossed her arms, her head held up slightly higher in aristocratic contempt. She might have been insulted that the Dalish and the Circle mage had dared to lecture her about war. She was a chevalier, after all. "I am glad to see you are confident," she said flatly, "But the lords of the Emprise can call on thirty thousand soldiers of some experience, to say nothing of our enemies in the Emerald Graves or the Exalted Plains. Those are not good odds, even for the best soldiers."

"No one is suggesting we should pay all of the soldiers," Skull-Mask interjected, before I could respond, "They are vassals, most of them owe us some amount of military service by right. Add to that the cause for which we are fighting; their own lives will improve if we win. Food is something we can buy or forage with ease. Why deny ourselves the advantage of numbers?"

It was a good point, if you were a primitive. It was born of the assumptions of the pre-industrial age. Numbers were the primary thing that decided wars, honour in war was at all relevant, armies could subsist on whatever was growing in fields, stashed in barns, or was running about to be hunted. There really is no other way to describe these views except primitive. I felt as if I was trying to explain a complex subject to children. Never let it be said that I am a modest one, I guess. Groaning inwardly, I rubbed my eyes as I figured out how to put it.

Thankfully, my own officers intervened to give me some time.

"Our forces are not vassals undertaking compulsory service," Soprano cut in, "They are professional soldiers, fighting both for payment and for the Marquise's cause. If they are forced to fight with peasants levied into taking up spears and shields, they will be unhappy. Your vassals will be unhappy that we are being paid and they are not."

"Not to mention that levied peasants make crap soldiers," said McNulty, spitting off to the side before resuming, "We can't train more than we've called, never mind making them real comrades. Difficult to claim we're any different to Gaspard's people if we're just throwing untrained people at swords."

Skull-Mask hummed at that point, clearly having considered it before. Lady Louise regarded Soprano coolly, her eyes visibly narrowed through the slits in her mask.

"It would be dishonourable to run away or complain about pay when you are fighting for your freedom," Blondie said, with rising venom, "What is a few coins compared with saving our rightful Empress and defending our natural rights?" Julie's message had thoroughly soaked into this one's brain, I mused to myself. Her perspective was skewed for good reason, however.

Peasants in the foothills of the Frostbacks didn't run away or complain about pay, but that's because the Avvars and darkspawn were a constant threat. Running away or refusing to fight without pay meant losing the protection of your community. The baronial lands of _les Grandes-Collines_ were a different place to much of Orlais in that respect. No wonder Blondie was scandalised.

"That's very easy to say, for someone that has never been hungry," Soprano snapped.

"You presume too much, elf," Louise spat back.

Already pissed off at having to be there in the first place, I had reached my limit. "Enough," I growled, "There shall be no insults between allies over a simple disagreement. Or shall I arrange for iron chains for both of you? Undermining the unity of this army for your personal satisfaction is treason to my mind." Utterly absurd and over the top, but it got their attention.

Both heads swivelled first to me, eyes wide and mouths chewing with words that would not escape their lips, before moving to their neighbours. Skull-Mask said nothing, indicating his agreement with me. No doubt he had executed or imprisoned malcontents himself plenty of times. McNulty clenched his teeth and tilted his head at Soprano, just in time to stop her from finally saying something brash.

"No need, Sam," grinned Armen, "I can take care of them both right here." Ciara was standing right beside him, and Louise had just used elf as an insult. His own pride demanded he make the offer, visibly so.

A flame akin to that of a blowtorch erupted from the spear-point at the top of his staff, except it was six feet tall. An oppressive heat rolled off it, so much so that I could feel beads of sweat forming on my forehead almost as soon as he started it. Soprano took a step back, and McNulty interposed himself between the mage and his comrade. Louise stepped forward, hand on her cavalry sabre, before an arm from her uncle was flung across to stop her advance. Which stopped a general charge by the chevaliers behind them, I might add.

This grand alliance was looking like more work every second, I thought.

"You've made your point," I said, wiping my forehead, "Armen, stop it."

The mage complied immediately, the flame disappeared with a hiss, his exercise in self-aggrandizement complete. Everyone calmed down, hands moving away from blades, foot placement returning to normal from fighting stances. I was beginning to regret that I was armed with a handcannon alone, and that I was in a blue silk shirt rather than armour. The whole thing sharpened the mind wonderfully.

"Bottom line is that we can't forage in the Emprise, or anywhere else, and we would almost certainly have to if we took more than ten thousand," I explained, "If we want the John Q Public up there to like us, we can't go stealing their food to feed our army."

Twitches of confusion rippled around the circle of talkers. Doubt even Julie would have gotten that one. "Peasants need to eat too, taking their food will anger them," I added. They got it at last.

"It is not the only thing that will anger them," said Skull-Mask, "Another reason I have come here today." He turned to Louise, indicating to me that it was clearly an issue she wished to raise. She made a small physical deference to her uncle, before opening her mouth. The words that came out were incendiary.

"The population of the Emprise is human, for the most part," she said, "If they see an army of elves invading, it doesn't matter whether or not we steal their food, they will oppose us."

I rolled my eyes, thinking that her complaint was that I had elves in my forces at all. It was ridiculous. I was sure that Skull-Mask had elves in his forces, and I was right in that. Ciara and Soprano bristled at the suggestion. Armen's grin disappeared. However, calling the woman out on her discrimination would have thrown away all the good work I had done so far, so I turned to the obvious practical argument.

"There aren't enough human volunteers to fill out the ranks, and volunteers are vastly superior soldiers," I said, "Besides, lords elsewhere in the Dales arm elves when they have to, all the time. Elves carrying blades longer than their palms may be against the law, but at least this far out of Halamshiral, it's a necessity." The law in Orlais forbade it, but as I said, there were too few humans to forego using elven manpower during wartime.

"The problem is not the presence of elves, the lords of the Emprise have elven soldiers," Louise replied with a flick of her hand, "The problem is visibility. Today was the first time I had ever seen an elf sergeant, never mind one in charge of a _démi-legion._ " The chevalier was ignoring Soprano, but her reference was clearly to the Colonel of the Rangers.

"Best start getting used to it now, then," Soprano growled, "You'll be seeing it a lot more." Suddenly, I was glad that Mike wasn't present. Mike would have killed Louise on the spot. Or asked me to allow her to, which would have been awkward.

"I will not remove any elf from a command that they have earned," I said firmly, nipping the argument in the bud, "If that is what you are asking."

The sound of an inhaled breath from Louise indicated she was about to speak, but her uncle interrupted. Good Ol' Maurice saved the day.

"Of course not, Marquis," he said in a casual tone, "Who you promote is your business as Viceroy. We simply ask that we chevaliers be given pride of place during any ceremonial and formal occasions, at least in the Emprise, to soothe the prejudices of the ignorant peasants."

My suspicions that this complaint was not only coming from Louise rose sharply. Those were far too diplomatic word-choices for Skull-Mask, who had appeared to me to be a brash, overly honest man. No, he was acting as the messenger for others that I liked less. Most likely Baroness Doucy and Baron Clouet. The fucking Game had sent me its first test, the first golden bowl of fruit laced with venom and a note to start eating. Mmm, tasty.

Rather than kick the table over and not play, I decided on a riposte.

"If you chevaliers can keep up with my elves, then you're welcome to that," I smirked, "There is a saying in my country, 'to the victors go the spoils.' Victors have to be there to fight in order to be victors, don't you think?" Anger on the side of my elf-ish friends defused immediately, and flared up among the chevaliers. McNulty let out a snort of amusement for good measure, which had gratifying effects on my mood.

Putting their honour on the line was risky, as it could be interpreted by less generous souls as an insult. Aside from my wish to upset chevaliers, never forgetting that my first encounter with the inhabitants of Thedas was at the hands of one of their number, I had essentially issued a challenge. They would have to pull their weight and prove themselves for our cause now, lest they find dishonour for it. I'm sure Lady Doucy would have applauded that manoeuvre.

"That won't be a question," said Louise, tone ice-cold now, "We are the finest warriors in all of Thedas."

"A boast we shall prove," Skull-Mask added, a little more amused than insulted now, "It shall be a fine competition."

I smiled, glad the tensions were broken at last and the issues resolved. "I'm sure Colonel Soprano is looking forward to it," I said.

"She is," chimed in the colonel herself. The two chevalier nobles looked between each other for a moment, as if catching on to something only just at that moment. I really wish I could have seen their faces at that moment.

"I don't mean to be rude, but that name, Soprano..." said Skull-Mask suddenly, addressing the colonel directly now, "Are you from Antiva? A Marcher perhaps?"

"Soprano is the name that the Marquis calls me by," Soprano replied, "He said that it was the title of a famous leader on his world, one both cunning and ruthless." That the leader was in fact fictional was neither here nor there.

"Your actual name?" Blondie inquired.

"Lydia Moreau," replied Soprano.

"How curious," Skull-Mask said, with a glance to me, "Does he ever use your real names?"

Soprano shrugged. "Not since the first day, but I like mine."

"At least you have ruthless and cunning going for you," said McNulty, "The man McNulty I'm supposedly named for is best known for debauchery." And for being the sharpest knife in the set, as well as a relentless bastard.

"You are debauched," Soprano said immediately. We all had a good chuckle at that.

"He really is," said Ciara, "Two months back, he was in the stables with..."

"Ciara..." Armen warned. The Dalish teenager pouted a little at the intervention. I pat her on the head, and she stopped.

"McNulty... it sounds Fereldan," said Blondie, "Uncle, did you not fight a 'Mac Nualtaigh' in single combat once during the war with the doglords?"

"A peasant farmer who wouldn't let us pass on the Imperial Highway near Highever, and challenged me," Skull-Mask nodded, "Introduced himself with absolute propriety, laid down the gauntlet. There was no way I could refuse him and maintain my honour. Brave man. Not a warrior, but very brave." I was impressed. I doubt Goldie or any number of chevaliers would have treated such a challenge with anything other than contempt. I was suddenly glad to have a man of Maurice de Villars' calibre in our army.

The conversation continued as the pleasant diversion it was, the ire from before forgotten. It was a good first sign that I had passed the Game's test, at least for now. I breathed slightly easier, the troubles of the day finished to my mind. With the orders preparations for the march already issued, being seen to by Velarana and Mike, I was certain I could soon rejoin Julie and Tam.

A rider soon broke our little party up, shouting as he came on. I recognised him as one of the pickets on the road. "Rioters! Rioters!" he was saying, "They're coming up the road! The outpost needs assistance!"

My throat tightened with apprehension.

"How many?" I asked.

"Hundreds!" the picketman replied.

An hour of reckoning had crept up on me without so much as a whisper of warning.

A mob had come for my head at last. Once I realised that, I understood the reason why. My thoughts immediately turned to Julie and Tam. There was no way a mob could won against the people I had at L'Ambassade. Élodie's home had no such protection. The fear of seeing their heads displayed on pikes as a mob looted the town shot through my chest like a cannonball, ripping everything out. That Élodie, Claire, Leodor and the newborn twins would probably end up dead too added guilt to the equation.

I began barking orders.

 


	54. Those That Solve III

Minutes later, I rode back down the road, armour and weapons quickly retrieved, the Villars and their chevaliers at my back. My mace in hand.

We heard the mob before we saw them, shouting and screaming bloody murder at first, followed by jeering and cheering. The reason for the change in tone became obvious as we rounded a long corner, exiting the hedge-lined section that marked where my lands ended and the Baron of Hearth's began. We ended up almost right on top of a group of peasants, probably less than a hundred strong. All of them human, most importantly. They had actual torches and pitchforks, God help them.

They stood shocked at our sudden arrival. Probably because they had beaten one of my guards to death, had seared another and clapped him in irons, and were in the process of stripping the only elf off in order to violate her.

Most ominously, they had three Chantry banners, white silk with orange and yellow flames as a motif. Yet these were clearly not true sigils of the faith; they were home-stitched, and by people who clearly did not do stitchwork art for a living.

I was filled with unutterable loathing as soon as I could comprehend what I was seeing, my fears for my loved ones given form in my presence in the shape of murderers and rapists.

"Chevaliers!" I roared with all my might, "NO QUARTER!"

There was a pause pregnant with menace. Heads turned to Skull-Mask. They wanted to attack, but didn't want to do so entirely on my word. The delay was allowing the rioters in the back to move away slowly, and my face must have communicated my displeasure with that, or perhaps the man himself thought it an admission of guilt on the crowd's part. He gave one sharp nod to his people.

" _NO MERCY!_ " the chevaliers roared back, drawing their swords as one, " _GLORY TO ORLAIS!_ " Their discipline and unwavering confidence in their commander was not to be underestimated.

The startled peasants bolted and ran at once, throwing aside their prisoners. My heart sang at the sight. They had thrown away any chance of surviving the encounter.

We charged, the road's usual quiet annihilated with the grunting of horses, the thumping of hooves and the terrified shouts of our quarries. The rumbling tide of armoured flesh and sharpened metal consumed the first few almost immediately, slowing the charge's advance for a dozen or two yards. The rioters ran away like men possessed, they were exclusively male to my eye, but not even demon possession could have saved them.

The stragglers were cut down with sabres, coming apart at the shoulders, losing heads and arms, being squashed like fruit under-hoof. My victims didn't get to see the business end of my mace slamming into the back of their heads, turning around would have meant slowing down, but Bellona was far too fast for them anyway. The road would be stained red until the next rainstorm a week later. I wish it could have stayed red forever, even now, decades later. That was just how obscenely, murderously angry I was.

Despite our best efforts, fully half the rioters made it alive to the palisade wall around the Smith quarter, but they didn't last long there.

Bolts of lightning enveloped them, Armen's handiwork. It trapped the bastards like mice caught in a cage, herding them in place for Soprano's move. I had sent her around the wooded road to secure the entrance to Hearth, knowing that her unarmoured horse troops would move faster than Skull-Mask and Blondie's heavily armoured cuirassers. Now, the elven lancers charged home, their weapons levelled. The last forty or so of the rioters were impaled or trampled to death, screaming before the impact or simply giving up.

Yet I was unsatisfied. My face was still warm, my stomach still sour. The sounds of fighting spilled over Hearth's walls, mere echoes in the distance, the stonework blocking all but the loudest of clashes. There were more of these interlopers to kill.

The two groups of cavalry met just outside the short wooden gate towers. I noted that the guards were missing both from those, and from the larger stone ones on the real walls. Probably withdrawn to help inside the walls, I guessed, meaning it was as bad as I thought. Armen and Ciara came alongside me, staring. I was splattered with gore, but hadn't yet realised it. I greeted them as if nothing was wrong, before returning to my mission to kill every traitor like a good soldier would.

"Soprano, leave your lancers to secure the Smith quarter and the clinic. When the firelancers and bowmen arrive, secure the elves' quarter," I said, "Inform McNulty when he gets here with the grenadiers that he's to do the same with the merchant quarter. When both parts are clear of rioters, converge on the town square."

The colonel nodded. "Rules of engagement?"

"Shoot anyone who is hostile or is looting," I said, "Let runners go. Anyone carrying one of those Chantry banners, take them alive if you can. I want to talk to them." I pointed at the bloodstained cloth attached to an old scythe handle on the ground. Soprano looked at it, and ordered one of her lancers to dismount and retrieve it. Fake or not, it would not do to have the Maker's own sigil lying in the filth.

"Armen, Ciara, we're going into town," I said, "Stick close by me." Ciara bit her lip, and Armen grimaced slightly. They both knew we were going for Tam and Julie, and that we'd probably have to do that part alone.

"What about us?" asked Louise de Villars. Her sword and armour was bloody, as was the side of her horse, both slick with the gore of her victims. I paused, only now noticing that I was the same. For a brief moment, I thought to clean myself. It seemed unsightly to appear like this. However, the dark thoughts I had been having crushed that notion. I wanted to scare the living shit out of the enemy, not just kill them.

"You're coming with me," I replied to Louise and her uncle, "If you will."

* * *

The Smith quarter was entirely a ghost town as we rode through, the activity I had seen less than a half hour earlier stopped, shutters on all the buildings closed. All except the clinic, Julie's former home. Bizarrely, the mob had entirely failed to take notice of it. That struck me as odd, and I scratched my chin as I stopped by as I pondered the question.

The healer who had kept Julie alive during the Templar attack on the château appeared from a doorway, peeking out to make sure there weren't any rioters about, before seeing the chevaliers riding by at a casual pace as well as Blondie, Skull-Mask, Armen and myself sitting atop our horses in the courtyard.

"They're gone?" he asked, "Where are they now?"

"Dead on the road," I answered with a scowl, "What happened? They were coming for us at the château, why didn't they attack here? They didn't seem like the kind to spare anyone, sick or not." Although admittedly, the clinic was better protected than most places.

"Perhaps they were afraid of the mages," Skull-Mask said, "Even I would have hesitated to attack this place, if I knew I would be facing magic. Or at least, I would have tried to use surprise." His niece shook her head.

"If they knew about it but feared it, would they come marching past it noisily?" Blondie said, turning her horse about, "The rest of the quarter is locked up, they were loud and angry enough to cause that."

"They might not have cared," Skull-Mask said, "They're rioters, not rational people."

"Mages scare irrational people more than rational people," Armen cut in, leaning back in the saddle, "Trust me."

"I defer to your experience, Enchanter," said Skull-Mask sarcastically, "What is your name, healer?"

The man stepped out of the doorway, staff tapping off the flagstones as he moved. Once he was directly in front of us, he bowed deeply to us at the waist. "Tobias Markham, esquire," he said with a complete lack of irony. He was showing a whole lot more deference than he had before, but then as a skilled healer, he probably dealt with nobles in formal settings a whole lot more than most mages.

"You are Nevarran?" Skull-Mask mused, "Well, _Monsieur_ Markham, prepare this place to receive the wounded. There will likely be many."

The healer looked to me for confirmation, with a cocked eyebrow no less. It took me aback a little that he wanted my opinion. I had thought his opinion of me to be abysmally low, after I had pointed a handcannon at him. So much so that I never bothered to seek him out after the battle with the Templars, largely out of shame. There was no time to dwell on that. I gave my consent.

"It shall be done, my lords," Markham said, "May the Maker watch over you."

He paced back into the doorway, where several other faces had appeared to gawk. He shouted to them to get back inside, and to break out the supplies prepared for our march on the Emprise. I grimaced, realising that this whole affair could delay our attack. I cursed under my breath and turned Bellona about.

Ciara rode into the courtyard quickly on her small horse, the noise of faster-beating hooves announcing her arrival over the slow taps from the chevaliers. She was red-faced from something.

"We have a problem," she said in a fluster, "Come see."

We went after her, through the rest of the Smith quarter and past the gatehouse, until we were forced to overtake what was becoming a traffic jam of chevaliers on horseback. Relieved looking citizens appeared at second and third floor windows, not quite confident enough to cheer. The noise of fighting was louder now. More people to disappoint if we failed, I thought.

When we got to the front of the line, a chevalier on foot got in our way. A horse lay on its side, making loud and pained noises in the gutter. I winced as I saw the blood.

"Wait!" the chevalier shouted, hands up, "Don't come any further."

Behind her, seemingly half the furniture of the surrounding houses blocked our way. It had been dragged into the street, more of the faux-Chantry banners hoisted on top of the pile. Nothing unusual about that to my mind, barricades of that sort were ten for a dollar when it came to riots. What was much more strange, and disturbing, was that the approach to the small ragged wall of wood was mined with caltrops. A good thirty feet worth of road was covered with them, and they were just the right colour to go unnoticed if you weren't paying attention.

A spike trap to deter cavalry from charging the rioters down. We all realised what that meant, but it was Maurice de Villars who put it to words.

"Rioters with pre-prepared traps? This is no riot," Skull-Mask said, "This is sabotage."

"But by who?" his niece replied, "There is no way our declarations could have made it to Val Royeaux or Gaspard yet. Most of his barons and allies could not have received it yet either, and those who close enough could not have organised this in a matter of days."

"Perhaps they intended this from the beginning," I said half-heartedly, before glancing at Armen. He stared back, well aware that we had more enemies than Gaspard's partisans. The whole thing sniffed of a plot by fringe Chantry elements to me.

"Well, it'll take too long to clear this up for the horses," Ciara said with a frown, "Do we wait or go on foot?"

We had to go on foot or we wouldn't be able to save much of the town. My gut curled as another thought occurred to me; maybe this was the point, to get us off the horses. While horses were more vulnerable in enclosed streets, on the main avenues they were essentially unstoppable. Without these sorts of barriers, we would have reached the town square in no time at all. I sighed, knowing that we were probably playing into the hands of those responsible.

"I presume your chevaliers can fight on foot too?" I asked Skull-Mask.

"Of course," Louise replied in his stead, "As I said, we are the finest warriors in all Thedas."

"Then you're going to get the chance to prove it," I replied, "We're going in."

The order to dismount was given, with one chevalier remaining for every three that dismounted so that the horses could be brought back to the stables in the Smith quarter. I let Bellona be taken by the nearest rider, and loaded my firelance.

Rather than their cavalry sabres, the dismounted knights now drew longswords, daggers and small round buckler shields. Not exactly the best for a shock attack, but the sight of yellow feathers, cuirasses and armoured masks would terrify anyway. I was confident we could best any Templars hiding to ambush us. They weren't to be the only people in the fight either, I thought.

My earpiece crackled to life.

"Marquis, McNulty and Mike have just arrived at the Smith quarter," said Soprano over the radio, "We can see the chevaliers' horses being taken out, is there a problem?" My heartbeat died down a little, the reinforcements calming some of my nerves.

"Yes, there are caltrops on the streets," I said, "Expect heavier resistance, but it shouldn't be a problem if Mike has her troops too. Same rules of engagement. Any sign of Colonel Velarana?" If Mike's troops had been able to assemble and arm, that meant the preparation work for the march had been completely abandoned.

"She's gathering the battlemages from the outer markers, they were gathering supplies for the artillery," McNulty cut in, "The Tranquil are ready to move if you want them up here." I stuck out my tongue at that. The idea of shelling my new hometown and the people who had begun to believe in me rankled, and it perhaps was even part of the enemy's plan.

"Leave them to defend L'Ambassade," I ordered, "I'm going in now with the chevaliers."

"Copy," said Soprano in common, sounding bizarrely American all of a sudden. My own mannerisms had begun to rub off on her, I noted. The familiarity was pleasing, and strangely boosted my confidence.

So, with time running even shorter than it had been before, we picked our way through the spikes on the ground, kicked over the tables, ladders and chairs making up the barricade and marched down the avenue towards the town square as planned. Louise de Villars and I were in front, followed closely behind by Skull-Mask, Armen, Ciara and the dozen or so chevaliers with shields larger than a dinner plate. The rest followed behind.

Almost immediately, we could see part of the fighting going on down the street. The Baron's guards in their blue tabards, red masked helmets and chainmail were holding the streets leading towards his end of town, getting battered with cobblestones ripped from the ground as well as fending off the occasional attack. No sign of the man himself, but he might not have even been in the town at that point. He was levying his own troops for the march after all.

The guards themselves couldn't advance, as braziers usually arranged around the space had been moved to block the advance. If the guards moved forwards, the lights would have been kicked over and turned into fire wall. It was still more evidence of some forethought, albeit rushed. If there had been any real time, the rioters would have been armed with spears at the very least. I couldn't help but nod a compliment at their ingenuity, nonetheless.

We were getting ever closer to the fighting, as well as to the junction closest to Élodie's home, and my breath caught as I realised the rioters had not even bothered to further barricade the way. The hundred or so that had come charging towards the château were clearly supposed to hold off anyone coming from there, and now, we might catch their brothers by surprise. Or so I had hoped.

Just as we reached the intersection leading to Julie and Tam, the way looking tantalisingly clear, another mob of rioters came storming out of side streets and alleys on the other side. About two hundred of them, their faces were happy, carrying things under their arms that clearly didn't belong to them. Small jewellery boxes, candlesticks and silver mugs, and most disgustingly, one had made a chain of ears and thrown it around their neck. Elven ears. I felt utterly numb for a moment. More had suffered for my presence.

By reflex, I knelt down, taking aim with my firelance. The chevaliers closed ranks, a fact I only noticed by the sound of their feet behind me. The rioters went from happy through scared to enraged in the space of a few seconds. Every single one of the bastards was looking straight at me. I hated them too much to fear them.

"It's HIM!" shouted the man with the ear-necklace, "The Deceiver! The demon!"

"KILL THE APOSTATE!" shouted a particularly large man with him.

All their lives forfeit in my mind to begin with, I shot the ear-flayer dead, taking him with two rounds in the chest. He flopped to the ground like a wet towel, limbs flailing.

The crowd charged, utterly unafraid of death in the way that only those powered by sheer ideological zeal can be. I lit up a couple of more, aided by Ciara's bow whizzing a few arrows past my head and into the throng. The effect was less than I would have liked. The tide rolled forward, shouting so hard that they seemed diseased with rabies, all spittle and rage.

They were advancing too quickly. Quite sure I would be unable to shock them into submission and incapable of killing them all before they reached us, I waved the chevaliers forward and withdrew quickly behind.

" _Chevaliers, Trap the Bull!_ " said Skull-Mask. The nobles did not so much as advance as spread out in a forward direction, leaving plentiful gaps between them in the centre. The mob charged headlong into these gaps, the shieldbearing chevaliers taking the brunt of those who were smart enough not to. Spaced evenly apart, the chevaliers were able to hack into the rioters from multiple directions. The insane animals were sliced to pieces, lacking any sort of protection except for tunics and pants.

The chevaliers were beginning to look like they had waded through a river of blood, but showed no signs of slowing. One or two fell to blows from five or six of the mob at once, but that was not enough to stop a ripple of doubt spreading. The sight of decapitated, throat-split and disembowelled bodies will do that, particularly to civilians.

This was the chance I needed, and I sought out Skull-Mask and Blondie as they rotated out of the fight for a moment.

"Lord Villars, the Marquise and Tam are this way," I said, pointing to the side road, "I believe their lives are in danger. Can you take command here and push this rabble to the square?" He paused, considering the problem. Fear closed my throat over as I realised he might think it a foolish endeavour, but I need not have worried.

"Marquis, I intend to slaughter every single one of these traitors," Skull-Mask replied, wiping his sword on his leg, "Without the Marquise, the common people will not be with us, and it would be utterly shameful if a woman as beautiful as that Tam were to die because of this plot. Go save them." His Qunari fetish aside, I was pleased to hear he held both of them in such high regard. With a grin, I slapped him on the shoulder and checked my weapon.

"Chevalier, send them to the Void," Armen said, his face the picture of anger as he made a bow. He had seen the ears too. Thankfully, he had the good sense not to attack. Furious, his magic would have manifested as fire... and he probably would have burned down the whole town.

"We shall," Skull-Mask said, before moving off to join his troops in battle once more.

"Let's go," I said, ready at last. I took off at a steady pace towards Élodie's house.

Ciara and Armen followed, joined very shortly by Blondie herself. What the hell Louise was doing following us, I do not know, but I didn't bother to question it. We might have needed the extra sword-arm, so I just waved her on.

 


	55. Those That Solve IV

Mercifully, there were no signs of rioting in the merchant quarter once we passed the first alley. That put serious spring in my step, as it meant the treacherous bastards hadn't made it this far yet. The streets were still empty though, which should have given me a clue. Even more encouraging, no Templars popped out of any windows to say hi before stabbing me to death by the time we got into eyeshot of our objective.

The shutters of Élodie's townhouse were closed over the windows and the front door, much like its neighbours. My jog slowed to a walk, my shoulders relaxed. They hadn't been attacked, I thought, thank God, the Maker, the Lord, whatever you want to call him. Ciara, Armen and Louise took my slowing down as something else.

"What is it?" Louise asked, her sword still out and bloody, "Is the enemy here?"

A smile beamed off my face like a spotlight, my cheeks feeling it.

"They're safe," I said to no one in particular, "Julie, Tam, Élodie, Claire, the babies... even Leodor."

"They'll be safer once we move them to the château," said Armen firmly.

"How are we going to do that?" Ciara asked, bow at the ready, "I mean, there's four of us. Maybe the enemy is trying to get us all in one place without all our warriors."

It was possible, but it didn't matter. McNulty and his people would be arriving soon. All we had to do was hold out inside the house, something we could easily do now that I was armed as well as I was.

"So we wait in the house and have a cup of coffee," I said, moving ahead again, "With any luck, the rioters won't show up before the Grenadiers do." I should have really learned to shut up at moments like these.

"Rioters aren't your problem," said a cheery voice loudly from in front. We stopped dead. Ciara and I raised our weapons slightly, ready to shoot with minimal extra effort. It was like breathing to us both by this stage. War paranoia had set in long ago.

A woman appeared from an alley. A cloaked red-headed elf, in leather padded armour, holding two daggers that had to be akin to Tam's curved one in viciousness, although these weren't curved. She stepped lightly into the middle of the street, reminding me distinctly of a tiger. One that ate men alive.

Except I wasn't merely a man, I was a soldier.

"Are you my problem?" I smirked, sarcasm dripping off my voice like honey, "If so, I'm intrigued." I was hoping to get information about who she was working for out in the open, before any gratuitous violence. The villains are usually oh-so helpful with that.

"Allow me to introduce myself," the woman said, in a strange unknown accent, "I am Tallis. One who solves."

"And I am Baroness Louise de Villars," Blondie spat, drawing her sword, "One who carves people who get in my way into little pieces. Stand aside." The rest of us chuckled, most ill-advisedly. Ciara even lowered her bow. No way the newcomer would best a chevalier in single combat. No way she could survive gunshot wounds, magic or Ciara's deadeye aim either.

"The Baroness is not a level-headed person, _Tallis_ ," Armen said, eyes gleaming at Louise, "Perhaps we should save you from yourself." His staff glowed for a moment, and he looked to me to give the order. I shook my head. We needed to keep 'the problem' talking.

"Sam Hunt, Marquis de la Fayette," Tallis continued, completely nonchalant about being chopped up or frozen to death, "Our agent identified you some months ago, and invited you to join us. Unfortunately, you declined, and now we have to do things the hard way."

I blew a noise out my lips, very much doubting she had anything that constituted 'the hard way'. That said, my mind rushed trying to figure out who she could possibly have meant by me being invited to join someone. The only possibility that sprung to mind immediately was Leliana. It fit the Chantry's general MO, but then why wasn't the Nightingale herself bringing me in? I was actually afraid of her capabilities, for a start. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, as my brain was making nasty conclusions I hadn't consciously clicked together yet.

Tallis raised a hand, breaking me from my thoughts.

"The hard way ends with you having so many holes, we could use you as a pasta strainer," I retorted quickly, "This conversation is over."

"Not exactly," Tallis replied, "Place your weapons on the ground."

She dropped her hand, and a cacophony of doors slamming open against their frames filled the air. First, more cloaked people appeared holding crossbows and curved shortswords from the doorways. Many were elves, which made no sense to me at all, at least until the next lot revealed themselves.

Fifteen damned Qunari walked out onto the street behind us. No Tamassrans either, these were armed with huge two-handed longswords, naked from the waist up except for their unique patterned vitaar warpaint and chainmail gauntlets, horns curling. They were easily bigger than Tam herself, although most were not quite the size of the Iron Bull. All except one.

From the same alleyway that Tallis had emerged from, a large female Qunari emerged pulling a chain, which was attached to a neckbrace around the collar of the largest man of any species I had ever seen. His face was encased in an blank, iron mask. More of a box really. There was no way he could see anything, at least not with his eyes. I understood what he was almost immediately.

The Qunari surrounded us on both sides, weapons at the ready.

"The Qun," gasped Louise, "But... how... why!"

"The Marquis has been a very naughty boy," Tallis continued, "Couldn't have him wandering around, showing off his powers and giving away secrets to you Chantry-slaves. It's a good thing we arrived when we did. He belongs with us."

My body felt heavy, not through fear but through what can only be described as inevitability. The time had come at last for the Qunari. Of course, I had expected them to want to kill me, not capture me, which was entirely to my advantage. Another such edge I had on them was that in expecting them, I had prepared repeatedly for assassination attempts. No matter how heavy I felt, I could go through the motions of the plan.

"Armen!" I shouted.

The mage turned to the rear, as the Qunari began to react, spinning his staff. I returned my attention to the front, seeing creases of frustration crop up on the faces of the Qunari. Followed quickly by lethal anger.

Time slowed, in the way it does when one is most definitely facing Death herself.

'Tallis' started to draw her blades and move forward, while the barrel of my firelance drifted to frame the chained person ahead of us. The air grew colder, and an ear-splitting crack boomed through the air. I smiled. Armen had carried the first part of his role; erecting a wall of ice between us at the great majority of our enemy to the rear. Now it was our turn.

The air split again, this time with the crack of my firelance. There is not a more glorious sound when facing an enemy to the death, when you can see their faces. My blood rushed with the joy of it, all other fears and excitements put aside.

The flash-crack was joined by the hiss of white-fletched arrows passing over Ciara's glove. My bullets made their mark, blue flashes sparking and spinning away with every hit. Of course the giant chained man was a mage, a _saarebas_ as Tam would have put it. There was no other reason for the Qunari to chain and tame a person in that way. My object was not to kill, but to suppress the mage's magic, to concentrate all his efforts on saving himself from me.

Ciara's job, as well as that of Julie and Tam had they been there, was to kill everyone else. Her first arrow struck the saarebas' minder just under the collar at an awkward angle, piercing deep. She fell to the ground, breathing heavily, struggling to stay alive.

Tallis padded towards us quickly, much more quickly than I would have thought possible. Straight towards me, no less. For a moment, I thought that I would have to switch my aim from the mage to her, which might have been suicidal. The elf's eyes had concentrated on me with the precision of a laser. I was the only person worth anything to her. I hesitated.

Louise de Villars stepped up beside me, throwing aside her ceremonial mask, revealing pale skin and ice-blue eyes, her sword in one hand and a buckler in the other. Ciara let loose an arrow at Tallis quickly, barely aiming, but the Qunari agent danced aside just in time, and used the momentum to bring both of her blades whirling around. Blondie caught the first with her sword, the second with her buckler, and began trading blows with the smaller woman. Satisfied that she could hold, I returned my full attention to the mage.

The monster's magical barrier failed, popping like a soap bubble, but with the faint sound of glass shattering. My next two rounds, the last in the magazine of thirty I had fired at him, glanced into his iron mask, shattering parts of it. He recoiled, stunning by the force of the impacts. That was a good start, but he wasn't dead yet.

I released the empty box, grabbed the next thirty round magazine and slotted it into place. Something I had done a thousand times, to the point it was as easy as scratching my nose. When I went to draw back the bolt, to ready the firelance to fire, a screech erupted from ahead of us. Louise and Tallis paused their fight. Ciara stopped trying to get a bead on Tallis. Armen glanced back from the job of maintaining the wall of ice and stopping the Qunari from climbing up onto it.

Without its keeper's guidance, the _saarebas'_ pain drove it mad. Worse, my own actions weakened its mask, and the monster ripped it off, revealing strange runes carved on the inside. It was definitely a Qunari, or kossith, the remains of its clipped horns poking out of the sides of its forehead. Its lips were sewn shut, but its eyes were open, wild reddish-purple irises full of hate. I could not help but think that the Chantry's solution to the mage problems were bloody humanitarian by comparison to how the Qun treated those with magic. It was a living torture exhibit.

We had enough time to think, because the thing began thrashing from side to side, slamming into the walls of the houses, shouts of terror coming from the occupants inside.

"It's becoming an abomination!" Armen shouted over his shoulder, "Kill it, quickly!"

Thinking that my firelance wouldn't be much good on its own, and remembering the demon-trees I had fought the summer before, I slung it and picked my mace off my belt. I was still utterly high on adrenaline, and utterly fearless as a result.

I charged, my small kite shield shouldered and mace raised. The saarebas seemed to grow by half, both in height and bulk, flames licking out from his noses, eyes and mouth, tracing along his skin. I am told that anyone less than a Seeker, or a very brave Templar, would not have contemplated attacking such a beast alone. Witnesses attested to me doing just that over the course of the weeks afterwards. Damned embarrassing how they embellished the story too.

The mage sent a torrent of fire at me, and I walked through it like Moses through the Red Sea, completely unharmed. I sneered at the beast, every step taking me closer and making it more mad. The thing hadn't become completely demonic yet, and slammed huge fists towards me as we finally met. Rather than take the impact on, I sidestepped, the left fist glancing off my shield.

It had put its full weight into the action, and haunched over as it lost its balance. I slapped the side of its head with my mace for good measure, almost losing my own feet as its arm whipped out and caught me in the chest. That left a pretty nasty bruise. Cursing, I took two steps back, shield raised to receive the next blow.

Instead, there was a final screech, and the saarebas' body dissolved. In its place floated a tall, thin demon, robed with the faces of corpses, the disgusting fabric flapping slightly as the thing moved.

The demon mage growled at me, and floated towards me, a hand outstretched. I stood my ground, letting it come. It was a magical creature now. I could take it apart with ease, I thought.

Until Ciara did something stupid.

A white arrow thumped into the side of the demon's head, passing halfway through and sticking, creating a sight like something from a comedic farce. The thing moaned and turned towards my Dalish sister-comrade, a hand clasping out in front of it, glowing with a yellow-green tinge. It was going to kill Ciara. With the same animalistic roar I had heard from the rioters, I charged home, swinging the mace about like a madman.

I took that mage-turned-demon apart like it was a block of butter, liquidified chunks floating away as I hacked and hacked from the bottom of its robes upwards. The pieces faded away in green hues, as if they had never existed. Cold and hot sensations creeped up my arm with every hit, no more harmful to me than bodyheat or a frosty breeze, even though they were supposed to be attacks to burn me alive or cover me in ice. A final swipe at the head finally killed it, the whole remaining body disappearing like the rest of it. I inhaled the air greedily, calming down a little, the worst of my enemy dead.

Tallis stared in confusion as I stepped back. "Well, that was amazing," she said. I grunted, unslinging my firelance once again. I had almost forgotten about her.

Blondie hadn't. The chevalier slammed the side of her buckler against the side of the elf's head in a vicious punch, taking advantage of the distraction I had provided, and knocking the Qunari agent clean out. 'Honour doesn't preclude tactics' being one of the mottos of the chevaliers. I snorted my amusement at the fate of Tallis, and looked forward for a moment to debriefing the spy fully.

Unfortunately, her colleagues were not so distracted.

"Eh, Sam," Armen called from behind, "A little help?!"

We all turned to find the bulky Qunari warriors and their lithe elven confederates combined, smashing the ice and climbing over the broken chunks, all the while taking the cold head on. There were too many to kill, but that hardly stopped me trying. We killed a good number as they moved, but they weren't idiots. The ice was thick, and they ducked to avoid my firelance, sending quarrels at my general direction to no avail.

A big two handed sword almost bisected Armen, his barrier holding only just. He took that as the sign to get back, and Fade-stepped away quickly, leaving a trail of snow behind him. We took that as the sign to start shooting. Louise grabbed the unconscious Tallis by the arm and pulled her away, while Ciara and I rattled off a few more bullets and arrows to slow the passage of the Qunari through the ice. The man who had tried to kill Armen was first, taking an arrow in the throat and two rounds in the collar, bleeding all over the white ice, turning it a strange red-pink where he fell.

Armen joined in, switching to his favoured lightning. The skin of the Qunari warriors crackled, but they kept advancing. They angled their blades in a strange manner, deflecting some of the magical forces. I could not help but be impressed at that little technique.

Louise rejoined the line, and got into a much more difficult melee with the biggest of the remaining three kossith fighters as they closed in on us. The elves brought their crossbows to bear on the rest of us, twanging bolts our way in a less speculative manner than before.

"COVER!" I shouted. Ciara and Armen obeyed immediately, stopping what they were doing and ducking into doorway arches. I followed suit and reached for a grenade, that would have settled the matter very quickly indeed. I prepared to prime the device, and looked out to see that Blondie was still out there, trading blows with one Qunari as the other two closed in. Her blue eyes flashed with each traded attack, but she did not notice the others approaching.

With no way I could use the grenade if she was still out there, I brought my firelance up to stop them. I cracked off five rounds at the nearest one, before my gun clicked dry again. Ciara put an arrow into my target, finishing him off. Armen was too busy holding off the elven crossbowmen. The last one was home free to stick his blade in Blondie's back. I scrambled for my handcannon, bringing the weapon up, cocking it, aiming, my stomach sick.

I knew I wasn't going to make it.

A black fletched arrow hummed down from above, catching the second Qunari behind the knee, sending him flying to the ground. His back soon sprouted bloody holes, the sound of a handcannon popping off a half dozen shots echoing off the stonework around us. I looked up. Julie, Tam and Leha were on the tiled rooftops, their weapons ready.

Louise finally noticed and realised the danger was immediate. She took a huge swing at the last grey warrior, and took the space created to run away. Julie emptied her clip into the newly exposed target, as Tam and Leha topped off two of the crossbowmen behind him. Madame Beretta was very displeased, I joked in my head. I holstered my handcannon, reloaded my firelance and stood out of the doorway I was in.

"We have Tallis," I said, "Kill the rest."

"Of course," said Armen with his usual sarcasm.

The Ben Hassrath agents bolted and ran, back down the way we had come, trying to make it to the corner where we couldn't shoot them. They almost made it too. Well, most of them. We killed almost half before they could reach it. When they did, it ceased to matter.

McNulty and three dozen grenadiers came rushing around the corner in formation, curved rectangular shields raised, swords pointed over them. The elves threw down their weapon and raised their hands. They were shoved to the ground and tied up. I sighed, my battlelust draining away. Our rooftop party climbed down through a window, and out the door of the house they were on top of, and joined us.

I went over and hugged Julie and Tam tight, my knees weak with relief. They looked at each other. They hadn't known what was going on, or the danger of it.

"What's going on?" asked Julie, "Where'd the Qunari come from?"

"Oh nothing, Ben-Hassrath agents fomented a riot so they could capture me and kill you," I said, with a hand wave, "I'm just glad to see you're okay." The pair of them flinched at the news.

"The Ben-Hassrath did what?!" asked Tam, checking me with no regard for propriety, searching for wounds furiously, "Please tell me you took one of their leaders alive." I shrugged, not sure if Tallis was actually alive from the blow she had received. Tam pulled off my kevlar and got handsy under my shirt, pulling her palms out and looking for blood. It was a pleasant sensation, but I slapped her hand away regardless with a grin. Some of McNulty's people were having a good chuckle at us.

Julie on the other hand was lost in thought.

"We took this one alive. Or rather, I did," said Louise wearily, appearing with Tallis over her shoulder, "I think that mage-handler back there is still alive too." McNulty himself shouted to his men to retrieve her from the street, and a quick glance confirmed the mage's guard was indeed breathing.

"They wanted me alive," I added, with no small degree of shame, "I was the objective. This is all my fault." I should have annihilated the Iron Bull and his entire party in the summer, I thought.

Julie shook her head. "It might have been one of the reasons, but I think it's obvious the Qun would lose out if we succeeded," she said, finger wagging, "They meant to cut the head off the snake, cripple our movement before we can win any victories."

"Makes sense," said Armen, leaning on his staff for support, "Without Julie or Sam, the support of the mages and the commoners would likely disappear."

"We would have protected them," said Louise, depositing Tallis into the arms of McNulty's troops.

"You would have failed," said Tam with complete certainty, "The mages cannot possibly trust your kind, you have not earned their respect." Implying that Julie and I had earned such trust. Which was true. There was no way Velarana or Armen was going to bow and scrape for Skull-Mask, the Baron or any of the other nobles. Only reason Velarana did it for me was because I saved her life and the lives of her people, and then provided them a home at great risk to myself.

"Not yet," Louise conceded loudly, picking up her mask and brushing it off a little. She shouldn't wear a mask, I thought as I looked at her, but kept the thought to myself. 

"Marquis, we've pushed them back to the square, but there's a problem," reported Soprano over the radio, "You might want to come down here." Jesus Tapdancing Christ, I thought, how hard is it to put down surrounded, poorly armed civilians?

"We're on the way with the Grenadiers," I responded, "McNulty, have the Qunari bodies collected, and get the rest of your people moving."

"Yes sir!"

* * *

The town square was a ring of fire by the time we reached it.

Overturned carts and market stalls had been drawn back in a semi circle around the entrance of the town chantry. The rioters had occupied it. The braziers had been moved with clear intent towards burning the whole building down if any moves were made to force them out. I suppose I understand now the reluctance of the Baron and Skull-Mask to storm the place. Aside from it being a religious site, which would not have stopped me, the entirety of the town's archives were there too. Births, deaths and marriages, and all the associated legal paperwork that those things entail about property and the like.

The Rangers were up on the roofs, trying to get a bead on stray heads popping out of the upper windows, though the shutters were partially shut to prevent the occupiers from being seen observing the square. Mike's pike and crossbow troops had sealed off the exits around the space. The Baron's guards and personal retinue were with Skull-Mask's chevaliers encircling the barricades itself. Who seemed to be having a good time exchanging cobblestones with the imbeciles manning them. I shook my head. What in the hell was the delay for?

Julie, Tam and I approached the Barons of Hearth and _les Grandes_ -Collines, with Louise de Villars. The others had agreed to remain at Élodie's home, to protect it.

The younger red-masked baron was standing on top of a small platform, trying to see what the rioters were doing to the small part of his town that they possessed. The older sat on one chair with his feet up on another, turned to the side away from the action, his mask off as he tucked into a rather plump pear. The same ice-blue eyes possessed by his niece concentrating on the task, a heavily scarred face retaining the core structure of what must have been quite a handsome visage once upon a time.

"What the hell is going on?" I said to them. They both shifted attention to us at once, although Pierre soon returned his gaze to the chantry.

"Nothing to do now but wait them out," Skull-Mask pronounced with boredom, before noticing his niece was covered in blood with her mask off, "Louise, are you alright?"

Adoptive father worrying about adoptive daughter, that was the message in his voice. He had trained the young woman into the walking weapon she was today, there was guilt in his worry too. I had seen this before, in multi-generation military families.

"She fought off Qunari," I said approvingly, "Including a very quick assassin."

"Really," replied the uncle, his hands falling to his lap, pear and knife remaining in place, "Qunari you say." He didn't seem particularly perturbed by that, but Pierre's head moved back on a quick swivel to pay attention to the conversation again.

"They're responsible for all of this, uncle," Blondie said, "We have the corpses to prove it, and some prisoners."

"They fought ferociously, but were no match for your niece's blade or the ability of the Marquis and Marquise," Tam explained, "They even brought a mage, which quickly lost control and would have consumed us all had Sam not been present to kill it." Particularly true as the only Templar we had, demon-slayer that he was, was notably absent. I winced as I imagined at the damage that might have been done.

"We'll have to think about some sort of honour for you, Lady Louise," Julie nodded, "But for the moment, why are you not liberating the chantry, my lords?"

Blondie smiled widely. "Personal guard to the Viceroy would be acceptable," she grinned with a sly look at me, taking us off track.

Tam cocked an eyebrow, and Julie laughed. Louise de Villars wasn't exactly beautiful, but she was good looking in an athletic sort of way, having no small degree of aristocratic refinement. Similarly built to Tam too, albeit shorter. I thought her suggestion somewhat provocative. Orlesians, I swear... Evidently Julie and Tam regarded her as no threat. Quite correctly. I had far too much affection for both of them, and had been through too much, to stray by this stage.

Hence why other measures had to be taken by people who had requirements of me, but the plots of Tevinter magisters need not concern us at this juncture.

"I think that would be appropriate," Julie said, before turning , "But again, why are you not putting these dogs to the sword? That they are Qunari dupes is all the more reason why their lives are forfeit." Her Orlesian accent greatly rose when stressing a point in Common, and this time was no exception. Of course, she was speaking it as that was what the nobles spoke in public, so the peasants couldn't follow along as easily.

"Cleansing the chantry in their blood might appeal to you, Julie," said Pierre softly, "But the Divine and the Grand Clerics may not approve of it. Almost certainly, they will not. We must tread carefully, especially as we have declared war just now."

"So you will wait until they get hungry and surrender?" asked Tam, crossing her arms, "Looks to me like they'll destroy the place before that." The braziers were arranged just so for that conclusion.

"In which case the Chantry will be on our side," Pierre replied, "It may even buy us more support with them, to hear that the Qunari want to destroy us. They know how that feels, especially among the zealots."

"They cannot last long in there either," Louise said, with a tilt of the head, "It is not well-stocked."

"If only that were true," said Julie, burying her face in her hand for a moment, "The Marquis and I have been engaged in food relief efforts, and the stores are in the Chantry basement."

"Food relief?" asked Maurice de Villars, his head cocked, "What do you mean?"

"Feeding the poor of the town out of our own pocket," I explained, "A PR thing." The abbreviation threw them off. I explained it meant 'public relations'.

"They have enough food down there to last for weeks, given that there's only a couple of hundred of them," Julie added.

"If they know about it," Pierre retorted, "Either way, we can bottle them up with a similar number and wait them out while we march."

That was very true, though I wouldn't be committing a single soldier to that even if they wanted me to. Of course, they couldn't have asked it. I was in command now. Of course, it was less than ideal, leaving this whole problem behind us rather than resolving it that day. We remained silent for a moment, probably because we didn't disagree with the Baron's point.

Thankfully, I had an idea.

"Did you take any prisoners?" I asked Pierre directly, "I ordered my own soldiers to give... some quarter."

"A dozen," the Baron replied, "They fought like madmen, kept screaming about the Whore of Hearth and how she had summoned a war demon to do her work to bring down the Chantry, and some nonsense about the Qunari being in on it. Ironic, now that I think about it. Not much use to us." The 'Whore of Hearth' being Julie, featuring Tam as the Qunari agent and my fine self as the unspeaking war demon. I was less than impressed with their branding of my lovers as a traitor and a power hungry slut to say the least. Though I thought the unspeaking war demon part to be appropriate, because that was all they were going to get from me.

"Oh, they'll be useful," I said, "They've been duped once, why not a second time?"

* * *

We threw the corpses of the dead Qunari warriors at the feet of the captured rioters, and dragged a newly conscious Tallis in front of them. Explaining that they had been tricked into acting in the interests of the greatest enemy of their faith was extremely easy with such excellent visual aids. I had them released into the chantry, but not before Tam had cut off the head of the largest Qunari male, a four-horned beast of a man, so they could show their fellows.

The dozen men strolled into the chantry under the impression that if they succeeded, they would be spared. However, no such promise had been explicitly made.

They did succeed in convincing their fellows that they had been tricked. They did succeed in getting the whole group to exit the chantry itself through the front door. They did succeed in putting their entire, imbecilic, zealous band into a killing zone. Traitors die in shame, as Julie would proclaim.

McNulty's Grenadiers started the bloodshed with a combat weapons test, igniting the powder-matches sticking out of the bases of their stick-grenades with hand-flints, before tossing them together in a high arc amongst the rioters. The explosions tore ragged holes in the clump of two hundred or so, as well as in individual men, killing a good few, crippling many more. Soprano's Rangers opened up from the rooftops, making their marks with near-perfect accuracy. Men were taken by minié balls from two or three directions, falling apart at the chest or half-losing arms. Blackpowder and blood filled the air with their scents, as the last of those to exit the chantry fell dead or cowered in fear, adding their own filth to the ichor. Mike's billmen moved in to finish the job, and successfully cleared out the chantry with a minimum of fuss and zero damage to the building or its contents.

To an Earth reader, this may strike you as a very bloody, possibly criminal act. I describe it in brief terms only precisely because I share that belief. However, the laws of Orlais are far removed from the international laws of the United Nations. Orlesian readers, as well as Orlesian people at the time, will no doubt agree that such a fate was too lenient. Indeed, the punishment for rebellion involved torture followed up with death by strangulation. By massacring the rioters, I was in fact performing a mercy in the eyes of many of the Orlesians. However, I do not like to think about it too much. Their ghosts don't haunt me, they were too full of hate for people I regarded as among the best on Thedas for that, but rather that it was the moment I knew the war to come would require similar brutality on a larger scale.

Regardless, thanks to the Qun's plot, our enemies had time enough to raise their armies.

  
  


 


	56. The Battle of Sahrnia I

The weeks leading up to the first real test of _Free Orlais_ , as it would come to be known in the Dales, were utterly miserable. There was no indication that the first concrete step towards the creation of a new nation on Thedas, or perhaps the first nation at all, was about to be taken. One of three such events now depicted in the antechamber of the _Palais de la Liberté_ in a rather tasteful fresco. Sometimes I look at it and wonder how long it will last, and whether or not what we've put into motion will last.

Nothing lasts forever, after all.

My patience least among them. Despite the reports of my fight with a possessed Qunari mage making the rounds, easing much of the political tension away, the march that was supposed to happen three days or so afterwards did not happen for another two weeks. The damage that had been done to our cause was not limited to the confines of Hearth itself. Qunari agents, or more likely their dupes, had spread rumours throughout the countryside. Although the majority firmly supported our cause, there was and is no shortage of reactionary elements among the peasants. Between putting down these sparks of unrest, seeing to the wounded populace and repairing key infrastructure, two weeks was very quick.

Two other problems compounded our misfortunes.

First of which I could have solved with a little more backbone, if I hadn't been dealing with all the rest of it. I had ordered approximately ten thousand to assemble for war. Ten 'legions' by Orlesian reckoning, roughly. Considering half were to be mounted on some form of horse or pony for transport, not for battle, that was as big an army as I felt safe about gathering for the logistics we could bring to feed them. Aside from that, such a number could move a lot more quickly.

Except a whole lot more than ten thousand came. Aside from troops recruited directly for my army, every noble that wanted to tag along had a personal guard, sometimes numbering more than the quota I had asked for. Inevitably, the new recruits were fresh, and the guards were seasoned veterans, but that worked to our advantage later. To say I was pissed at the nobles was an understatement, but they weren't the only perps. Mother Brandon and Knight-Commander Barris arrived with a hundred Templars, men and women Barris trusted and new recruits they could mould. Aside from them, there were the civvies. My understanding of an army in the field was so utterly alien to the Thedosian concept. On Earth, combat had become so deadly, so indiscriminate, that civilians generally did not hang around armies. They fled combat zones or died. On Thedas, camp followers ranging in role from the families of soldiers to enterprising prostitutes and merchants were commonplace. Still are, among some armies.

So, by the time we marched, we had about twenty thousand soldiers under arms in our forces, only half of which were under my direct command, and thousands more tagging along no matter how many threats I made to dissuade them. That the entirety of the army was getting paid for their service was far too big a draw. The nobles were paying their own, and my troops were getting combat pay for the duration of 'high intensity' operations, so were even more flush than usual. They camped out around Hearth for the two weeks, doing nothing for the first few days until I had the levied forces drilled daily on our parade ground by our own veterans. The nobles' troops mostly milled about inside Hearth itself.

Then it rained for a week. Not particularly hard, but enough to wash the blood from the road between Hearth and L'Ambassade. Enough to muddy up the highways, to make moving our heaviest artillery near impossible.

Without Tam urging patience, and distracting us in the way that only she could, I think Julie and I would have organised around-the-clock firing squads. With cannons. Ciara's help in organising everything and soothing our frustrations was also invaluable. Armen made things worse by feuding with Velarana about the Templars, but we sorted that out in ten minutes when I placed the Templars under his direct command. The Libertarians got their regiment, half-mage, half-Templar. Barris accepted it gracefully. Armen grumbled.

Regardless, the march began at the first break in the weather.

We all knew it was a long shot. The enemy had rallied around the Marquis DuRellion, the overlord of much of the lands bordering Fereldan on the Frostbacks and nominally a loyalist to the Empress. Interestingly, he would later become a prominent supporter of the Inquisition, but at this time, he was twisted into supporting our enemies due to their own loyalty to Gaspard or distrust of our revolutionary fervour. Like Skull-Mask, they were all military minded. Aside from the enemy themselves, we would be operating at the very edge of logistics Leha and I had planned carefully. Even excluding camp followers, food had to be strictly controlled. The delay had also hacked into our funds, and although much of it came back to us via our enterprises, if we didn't make our objective, we would be bankrupt in another two weeks. We couldn't bring our business with us, after all. Without nobles pitching in, it would be very close indeed, something Julie insisted on avoiding. Debt to them was death to the revolution, she said. I laughed, but agreed.

So we marched, and marched hard. Morale dropped like a rock. Everyone had gotten used to drilling or doing some light reconstruction work in the day, drinking and whoring at night. Padding through the mud, even after I ordered the mages at the front of the column to harden the roads as best they could, was an unwelcome change. So too was the news that our enemy had mustered a much larger force, and was undoubtedly marching out to meet us. I had split up the army into three, so we could move more quickly, and fears that the enemy would fall upon one part before the other two could gather were very real. So real you could literally smell it on their sweat, something I wouldn't have thought possible before. My true homeland's army was essentially unassailable, so it was very much a new experience. It has a harsh tang to it, completely different to what you get with raw aggression and exertion. That smell certainly was familiar.

Our destination was Sahrnia, a major town occupying high ground in the north-east of the Emprise, bordering Skull-Mask's own fief, stretching as it did along the mountainsides. It was not important territory by any standard of the day. The Baroness of Sahrnia, one Lady Poulin, was not highly regarded and was a complete non-entity in the Game. For us however, it was absolutely essential ground. Sahrnia was home to quarries that exported material to every part of Thedas, but most crucially, it was our source of raw materials for manufacturing pretty much everything. Aside from silverite with which our cannons were made, one of the ingredients for blackpowder was found there in great quantities as a byproduct, alongside lead deposits for ammunition, and various herbs for medicines.

If we took the town, its smithies and its quarries, the price-tag on our new firelances would become low enough to allow something like mass production. If we lost it, we wouldn't be able to get a reliable supply of blackpowder, and we'd be back to fighting wars the old way inside a month. Likely sooner.

If we lost at all, our movement would likely collapse and the vultures perched elsewhere would swoop down on us from all sides. Jader, the Exalted Plains, the Crownlands around Halamshiral... the nobles there would eagerly tear us apart, loyalty to Celene or Gaspard being meaningless when it comes to land grabs.

Not that anyone cared but my own people. The nobles grumbled about why we would be taking a mountain town of no importance to them. The commoners grumbled about the forced march. The camp followers grumbled about the army being split up. Everyone grumbled about the mud. And occasionally, fights broke out about the affections of one whore or another, among common men and nobles alike. The fighting women rather generously left their contribution in that at rolling their eyes and shaking their heads.

Things were animated, at least.

* * *

The cherry on the top of the cake was showing up on the plains below Sahrnia to find that the enemy had shown up to block us. All forty thousand of them, clearly the largest force that could be assembled at that spot in the time we had given them. Not the full force of the enemy, but more than enough to cause us trouble. We had plenty of warning, my lancers had been sent far ahead to scout, so our army converged on the flat farmlands. Didn't mean I was happy about it. I watched from a balcony of a farmhouse, as our armies began to square off at some distance.

They were offering battle.

I was rather distracted by the backdrop, as I wondered whether or not to accept their offer. The rolling, rocky foothills were spectacular to look at on their own, but made more so by the structures that had been built atop them.

Even the light-grey of overcast skies didn't defuse the beauty.

Suledin Keep was the most obvious, the old elven fortress a marvel to behold even as a ruin. The enemy weren't bottled up in there for the obvious reasons; they had the numbers, and we had enough mages to make fixed defence a poor idea. I was very glad they hadn't been stupid, destroying such a place with cannonshot would have been a real pity. Of course, Inquisitor Trevelyan probably would have disagreed, given that she had to clear the place out some two years later.

The 'Pools of the Sun' stood in elegant silence, hotsprings framed by colosseums, one ruined and two intact. The town of Sahrnia itself was also visible, stout rounded guard towers rising up from the green treetops, the peaks of their roofs in red slate. Running between the two sights most remarkably was a bridge supported by high arches, in stunning white marble. The remains of another bridge connecting to older, depleted mines were at the other side of the town, but still had a function as the top of a great wood-and-rope elevator, so the ore of the quarry could be brought to the town and its river-port further downstream.

The River Suledin itself was a surprisingly broad thing, despite crashing down from the mountains behind the town via two or three large waterfalls near the settlements. The distance meant that I could not hear their roar or churning, but the spray floated off into the air visibly at least. Not that I could have heard anything over the continuous chomping of my soldiers' boot soles.

Sharper foot and staff falls woke me from my inspection.

"A beautiful place, is it not?" asked Armen, approaching from behind, "It will make a fine addition to your little empire."

I winced. I didn't appreciate the idea that I was in fact building an empire, and I gave him a dark look. His trademark grin budged not a millimetre.

"Don't be insulted at that, Sam, it's true," Armen said flatly, "And you'll live longer." The thought that he should be having this discourse with Julie crossed my mind, briefly. Provocatrice that she was.

"You might not," I joked.

"True, but then you would have to deal with Ciara," Armen mused. The Dalish girl being far more dangerous to me than any mage ever could be.

I grunted my concession of that point, not pleased with the idea of facing Ciara in a fight to the death. I would almost certainly hesitate to shoot her, and she would almost certainly wound me badly because of it.

"There are a lot of them," Armen said bluntly, "Are you sure that we can do this?"

The colourful banners and shields of the enemy stretched far enough that you could look at the middle of their formation and not see the edges of it. I had to move my gaze to take in the entirety. It was still as much a patchwork of forces as ours were, perhaps more so, a collection of much more smaller armies. The infantry and cavalry were distributed almost at random, though crossbowmen and archers were the front of the entire line. No sign of artillery, not even the ballistas that were so popular among Orlesians at this time.

"Of course we can do it," said Tam firmly, materialising from the upper room adjoining the balcony, "The Barons Pierre and Maurice are skilled warriors and leaders, and we have created an _antaam_ that no Orlesian has ever seen the like of. We'll win." Her confidence boosted mine, and I frowned as I realised that her opinion mattered almost as much as the facts to me, worrying about what that meant for the whole enterprise.

"Even if the troops are scared witless?" Armen riposted, "They're fighting each other over the slightest cause, and if it wasn't for fear of Sam and respect for Julie, far more would have deserted by now." All of which was very true. Even the brawls over the whores had been more a product of the mood than any lack of supply.

"Fear is a useful thing, _saarebas_ ," Tam replied firmly, "It is the basis of all discipline, and it sharpens the mind for struggle to come. Men die on the battlefield, they are right to fear it." Tam very much being in the 'scare them straight' camp of child-rearing, despite her great patience with toddlers. To her, training a soldier was much alike to raising a kid. Can't help but see the similarities myself. Never any trouble between us on that count.

"They're even more right to fear our fearless leader," Armen noted, nodding in my direction, "He seems as cool as a pool of water, and that scares _me._ "

Taken aback that I seemed so calm, I leaned on the balcony's railing and peered over at the nearest troops. Some were stealing glances at me, and sure enough, the looks of confusion I seemed to be generating confirmed Armen's sentiments. In truth, my gut felt like it was being scrambled and forced up into my throat. The weight of failure there was mind-numbing. Perhaps that is why I appeared to be handling it all so well.

I made my decision.

"They've offered battle, they block the way to something we absolutely must have, so we will attack," I explained, falling back on technicalities to distract me, "If we lose, our entire movement dies and our heads will all be on spikes by the end of summer."

I pointed to the enemy. "Those men and women over there have other options."

Armen's eyes narrowed and his smile dampened. "I didn't know desperation had military uses," he said, shaking his head.

"It does now," I responded tersely, "Thank Tallis, if you're unhappy." Though he would have had to ride back to Hearth, and enter the rather dreary setting of the Baron's dungeon, to do so. Her quarters were too good, as far as I was concerned.

"At least everyone still seems to be moving," Armen continued, "I would have thought they would be weak from all that marching." Food shares had been upped during the past two days to insure that, I had seen to it.

"Best we get started," I said, "Armen, would you mind fetching Julie and the others? The useless ones too." Meaning the nobles.

The mage inclined his head to acquiesce, and left quickly. Not before giving Tam a dopey grin again, dirty-minded idiot that he was at such inappropriate moments, but I forgave him regardless. After all, he was going to be right beside me.

Tam came closer, drawing up alongside me, bending over the railing and resting her elbows on the wood. Which had extremely gratifying effects on her person, silver-gold hair spilling forwards onto grey skin, exposed to the extent that the latter usually was. Cheering me up to a considerable degree. It was my turn to grin like an idiot, as uncontrollable as it was. Of course, Tam had wandering attentions too, however quiet she was about it.

"Remember when that chevalier came hunting us, on that hill?" Tam began, slowly, "We were stuck in a hole, waiting for the fight." The warm memory flooded back into my mind. I hadn't thought of that moment for a while, and it was pleasant to recall it.

"How could I forget," I replied, half-laughing, "Julie's proposal."

"We're in a similar situation now, are we not?" Tam said, her even tone of voice at complete odds with the suggestion she was making.

"Eh, yes?" I said, "So?"

"You idiot," she replied laughing, shaking her head.

Tam brought herself to her full height, that is a few inches above my own, turning to me. Her violet eyes filled my sight, as she came closer. She brought both her hands onto my cheeks, lightly holding my head in place. The kiss came softly, not as lustful as the many we had shared before, but far more possessive. Almost desperately so. Her hands moved away from my face and onto my shoulders. My own moved to the the small of her back. Her compassion, her discipline, her fearlessness in a fight, I was very glad to have that by my side. It was a relief given what we were about to face.

We stood there, entangled in each other.

A deep cough struck the air. We broke off the kiss, not the rest of the contact, and turned our heads towards the room, the source of the noise. Standing there was Julie and Leha.

The former grinning, her hands on her hips. She was in Earth gear, firelance slung over her shoulder, her brown hair leaking out of her helmet, combat webbing packed with ammunition. Warhammer on her hip. Damn. Leha was in her own battle gear; chainmail, scabbard and crossbow.

They paced over together.

"You're about to lead an army into battle for the first time," Leha said, "And you're up here, snogging the Qunari. In front of the same army." A finger extended outwards to the troops beyond. They were watching with intense interest. The units directly by us were our own, so some took it as a sign to kiss their loved ones goodbye.

Inadvertently, I had made our morale problem worse. Possibly. I cursed under my breath.

"I think I am," I said, lost for any other response.

Leha's head would have spun off her head, if she had shook it any harder. "Unbelievable," she muttered, throwing her hands up, "You're children." The woman in my arms was less than amused by this response.

"In less than an hour, we'll be facing death," Tam snapped, "I insist on enjoying a last moment before we do." Julie's ideas had rubbed off on her further, as you can tell from that line. She illustrated by drawing me still closer, no less. The dwarf stepped forward, anger on her face. Our lover paced ahead of her, cutting onto her path.

"You'll have to forgive Leha," Julie put in kindly, "She's had bad feelings about this whole thing for days now."

"Nightmares, never mind bad feelings," the dwarf corrected, "Mind-shaking nightmares."

I pulled away from Tam slightly, and examined Leha more closely. Sure enough, her eyes had bags, and her skin was of a less healthy colour than usual. She was dressed for battle at least, chainmail and padded leather hugging her form, crossbow on her back and her sword at her waist. She was not so tired to abandon her duty. Her future was as tied up with the success of the revolution as anyone else's, perhaps more so.

"Well, it's too late now," said Julie, "No use crying over spilled milk, as Sam says."

With that said, she came up and kissed us both. When it was over, my entire body felt twice as heavy. A sense of dread. That it might be the last time. I knew that I wasn't the only one feeling it either.

 


	57. The Battle of Sahrnia II

The planning of the battle was swift and almost non-existent, because we did not have many options, as outnumbered as we were. It relied entirely on our new advantages. Our army was arranged according to what sort of soldiers we had.

Filling out fully half our line from the left, I placed the troops that I hadn't expected to show up; the noble's household troops and levies they had brought for their personal glory. Where they wouldn't get in the way, and where their experience in primitive warfare could counteract the enemy's elite, which was facing them. Their line curved away towards the rear, so that the enemy couldn't use their numbers to simply bypass and surround us. Skull-Mask was put in general command of these troops, as he was by far the most experienced at commanding just such an army. He was also the most experienced at dealing with chevaliers.

From the centre to the right was the beginnings of the Free Army, the levies I had asked for from each of the lords who had signed up to our alliance. They were joined by troops from Hearth that weren't my own, and were armed pretty much as any other Orlesian was at the time. With a few modifications. They had been trained over the weeks previous to move and fight in formation, something that was largely alien to Thedosian armies. These men and women were under Pierre's command. I didn't trust him with anything as a rule, considering he coveted Julie, but the exception was this sort of job. He knew what he was doing. He had spent the spare weeks familiarising himself with our methods too, a most admirable move.

From the right to the edge of our line bordered by the trees and the river were the Peacekeepers. The Knight-Enchanters, the Grenadiers, the Libertarians, the Long-Spears, and the Rangers. Joined by their newest brothers and sisters in arms, the Vice-Regal Guard; Louise de Villars and her chevaliers. The artillery was parked along the raised banks of the river, their line of fire cleared of trees by their assisting mages, ready to be floated downriver back to Hearth on commandeered ore-barges if things went south.

Julie, Tam, Ciara, Leha, Blondie and I were in front of all of this a little ways, mounted up in a line of desert-camouflaged uniforms in front a sea of green ones. A ring of chevaliers to our back and sides. Armen was with the Knight-Enchanters, commanding the Libertarian mages from the front. Politics was behind that move.

The wait was horrible. I leaned back in my saddle and looked up at the sky. The clouds were thin, but covered every patch of blue. Two eagles circled over head, diving at each other. I wasn't sure if they were mating or fighting, but it distracted me for a bit.

The enemy completely failed to be impressed by our arrangements, and I guess the Marquis DuRellion wanted to get it over with before dinner. Horns blew and shouts raised themselves in salute to the lords of the Emprise. Fearlessly, the troops stretching before us began marching directly forwards, through the fallow farmland and hardening mud, as if we were nothing but insects to be crushed. I cursed under my breath at their confidence, finding my own bruised.

A great groan went up from our own line, adding to my woes.

"Well then... Good luck," I said on the radio, "Stick to the plan, and we'll have a chance." The plan being to let them come into range of our cannons, firelances and mages on the right, while the left held as best it could. Not exactly a proactive strategy.

A variety of acknowledgements came from my colonels, ranging from McNulty's cursing complaints to Velarana's proper and formal affirmative. Everyone handling the sight in their own way.

"They really don't like us," Ciara said beside me.

"We're shaking the ground on which they've built their lives," remarked Julie, her eyes scanning the oncoming hordes, "They'll never accept elves or mages as their equals." Which was true, for many of them. For many back home too, only the strength and prestige of our movement holding back expression of those hatreds.

"Or they've been offered bonuses for the first to get stuck in," Leha interrupted.

"More likely," Tam said, "Doesn't matter, they'll kill us with glee."

"We shall see," sniffed Louise de Villars, clearly liking her own chances.

I looked out to our troops, extending hundreds of yards to my left. The hesitations they had felt were beginning to affect their behaviour. Heads swivelled between the enemy and their fellows in the line, the sergeants barking and pointing at wavering individuals to hold the line. Guilt poured over me, knowing that I had made that worse.

"Fuck," I said, simply and dreadfully. I returned my attention to the enemy. They were about a third of the way there, avoiding the wooded river embankment, sweeping down in the open where they could bring their numbers to bear, where they could shoot at the mages from as far away as possible.

What happened next still beggars my belief.

In my peripheral vision, Julie looked at me and at our army. Before I could ask her what she was doing, she gave her reins a tug and shouted. Immediately, Revas took off, carrying her onwards in a flash of white. Directly towards the enemy, no less. Julie took off her helmet, and her long hair caught in the breeze. Everyone would know it was her now, even those looking to kill us. Both armies watched in stunned fascination, myself included.

There was a small hillock, no higher than a man's shoulders but broad enough to hold a horse or two with ease. A mound really, about a third of the remaining distance between the armies. Revas hopped up onto it, Julie atop her, visible to every man and woman present.

The thinning clouds parted, and sunlight poured onto her, beams of it.

Revas reared up, and Julie raised her warhammer above her head, taunting the enemy. The horse went back on all fours but Julie kept her weapon held aloft, shouting for the common soldiers facing us to keep their arms and to turn against their lords. Her exact words were lost in the din of moving flesh and metal.

The two eagles that had been circling above dove down. One silver-headed, the other a rich brown from head to claw, and together, glided over and landed on Julie's warhammer, on the handle to either side of her clutched hand. Facing the enemy, they let out more shrieks, wings spread. Julie froze, looking up at them over her shoulder.

That is why today, our coat of arms and that of two of the great houses feature eagles perched on warhammers. Supported by lightning bolts, though that is a nod to Armen's great contributions to our cause.

"What in the name of..." I thought aloud.

The troops that had been moving forward so boldly stopped their advance dead too.

A great roar went up from our lines, most loudly from our own troops but shared by every commoner in the Free Army.

" _VIVE LA FAYETTE!_ "

" _VIVE LA FAYETTE!_ "

" _VIVE LA FAYETTE!_ "

The words continued in a one-one-two beat, like a drum or a trumpet. By a set of miracles, our army's fighting spirit had been restored.

I was numb for a minute afterwards. A nudge from Tam later, and I recovered my senses.

"Mother Brandon may be right," I said to no one in particular, "This is too much of a coincidence."

"This is Julie," Tam smiled, "Maker-sent or not." Not that my Qunari lover believed in the Maker anyway.

The first of our opponents to recover, inevitably, were the nobles, whom were far less impressed by the display than their vassals. Three companies of heavy cavalry trotted out from their lines, their crossbowmen getting out of the way only just in time. Their infantry stalled behind them, they galloped towards Julie's hillock. The hairs on my neck stood on end. I panicked.

"Alright, Joan of Arc," I said quickly and urgently on our personal radio channel, "Time to get out of there."

"I want to, but the damn eagles are refusing to fly away!" Julie growled back,.

She was still holding the warhammer up over her head. To everyone else, it seemed to be sheer defiance. History certainly records it as such. Perhaps it was, to some degree. It may have had more to do with not having her face clawed to pieces by her new friends. Still, the consequence was another round of cacophonous shouts. The enemy knights moved forwards, relenting not one moment. Contemptuous of our upstart soldiers.

"Tam," I said. She knew what I meant immediately.

"You two," Tam shouted, pointing to the two nearest chevaliers, one of whom was holding the UN flag, "With me!"

Fritz jumped off into a run, tracking Revas' hoof-prints in the dirt and grass. Tam made good time towards Julie. The blue banner followed, with the chevaliers below it. Julie finally managed to get Revas to begin moving towards Tam and the escort, but the horse was far more skittish than Bellona or Fritz. The eagles utterly refused to budge, and the animal was unused to seeing them so close.

My throat closed on itself as I realised the enemy would reach Julie first, and would catch the whole group. Without a doubt. I coughed hard to clear my airways, struggling to get the words them out.

"Artillery, enemy cavalry advancing on the Banner, fire at will!"

"Yes, Viceroy," said the even tones of the Tranquil commanding the battery that week. I have to say, the emotionless delivery did a world of good for my own calm. To my right on a jutting portion of the embankment, the gunners began the loading procedure for the fifteen cannons, the lighter ones that we managed to get through the mud. It took an agonisingly long time from my perspective.

The gallop of the enemy knights turned into an all out charge, their line fraying as those on the faster warhorses broke ahead of the pack. Still the eagles refused to move. Julie had abandoned trying to get them to, having attempted everything short of shooting them. She appeared to be trying to pull out her handcannon to do just that. Or that she was preparing to stand her ground against hundreds. Tam drew up alongside her, longsword at the ready, as the two escorting chevaliers waited at the bottom of the mound. I shouted again for the cannons to fire.

"Ready, ready, ready," chimed the Tranquil battery officers in turn, not caring for my desperation, following their training to the tee.

"Fire," said their commander.

The cannons roared, and the eagles flew off. The rifled-bolts sailed through the air, making an eerie warbling-whistling sound as they did so. "The Fire Wyrms' Call" they call it now in history books.

The great disadvantage of bringing the Tranquil into combat is that they will tend to underestimate or misjudge the risks to their friends, or take their orders too literally. The enemy cavalry couldn't have been more than five paces away from Julie when the shots arrived, or at least the first three were. The closest took a shot to his horse's neck, decapitating it in a spray of gore. The other two took a single round together, sweeping through the side of the front rider and thumping into the head of the horse behind. The other thirteen rounds landed in among the rest of the formation, killing many and shocking the survivors into a halt, as horses turned and bucked, confused and afraid of what was happening.

I barely registered this. Julie had been in the middle of the storm of flying metal, and more to the point, the blood from the foremost rider and horse had covered her from head to toe. Revas stumbled. I had no idea if she had been hit, but it looked like it.

"CEASE FIRE!" I roared, loud enough so the Tranquil could have heard me in hell, radio or not.

"Acknowledged, Viceroy," came the toneless reply. The gunners kept swabbing the cannons' insides, preparing for the next volley.

I turned my eyes back to Julie, as the army jeered. She was fine, though coloured a slick dark red. Revas was back on solid footing, and she waving her helmet around as she galloped back towards us with a very relieved looking Tam and the two bewildered chevaliers. The jeering continued at the enemy, as they rallied in the middle of the fields, not sure what to do now that they had been bloodied. There certainly were a good number fewer of them than I had counted when they had first moved.

Julie and Tam returned beside me. The former looked a bit sick. Even her face was covered with sticky, drying ichor. Most of it horse blood.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"No," Julie replied, almost remaining stoic, "But at least I know my weapons work." She poured her canteen flask over her head, squeezing the gore out of her hair and wiping her face off. She gagged a little, but held herself firm. She tied the hair in a long tail, so it wouldn't bother her.

"You did not need to get that close to confirm such a thing," Tam said, sheathing her sword, "We almost lost you."

"She'll do what she'll do," Leha chided, aiming her comment at the Qunari, "Don't bother trying to stop her."

I breathed deeply outwards, as if for the first time after surfacing from the ocean. How utterly nerve wrecking it is, to be taken to such a high only for a nightmare to drown you, and then tossed back to relief. That's why we drink, I guess.

The enemy cavalry were in retreat now at last, and the rest of our opposition remained rooted to the spot. Perhaps believing themselves out of range of whatever mechanical monstrosities we had brought to bear on the flower of the Emprise's nobility. Our own troops continued shouting and jeering, their own fears completely forgotten in the drama that had played out before their eyes. The Maker's omens, the treacherous charge by the enemy, the defiant stand, the enemy struck down as if by divinity itself.

"They're enthusiastic," remarked Ciara, her bow across her lap, pointing at our troops.

It occurred to me at that moment that their zeal might die at any second, the reality of the numbers against us pressed home once again. I had to act.

"Peacekeepers, close with the enemy," I ordered by radio, "Artillery, target the main body and fire at will."

"Yes, my lord!" came the reply from all of my colonels, Mike's shout half-drowning out the others.

The shouts from the sergeants echoed, as the commands were given. The music began, fifes and drums piercing the air with their sounds, as the one and a half thousand men and women under my command marched forward bravely. No need to relay the command to the rest of the army. They'd get the picture.

McNulty's guys began to sing along to the tune in Common, at the top of their lungs, punctuating their steps with the lyrics.

_Some talk of Alexander, and some of Hercules,_

_Of Aveline and Drakon and such brave names as these,_

_But of all the world's heroes, there's none that can compare,_

_With the tow row row row row row to Hunt's Grenadiers!_

An interesting song, if only due to the mixture of Earth and Orlesian storytelling.

The sound encouraged the others greatly, and the pace picked up visibly. The others looked on in awe at the sight of such a small force marching on thirty to forty times their number. I on the other hand would have been surprised if they had _failed_ to march. I had drilled and drilled this discipline and élan into them since the summer before, and fought alongside them in the skirmishes against the Templars. My pride grew in my chest. In retrospect, it was very much akin to watching my sons and daughters walk for the first time on their own.

"Soprano, Blondie, you're with us," I radioed, "Follow my banner along the river." The cannons sounded off their first barrage into the general throng of the enemy infantry, precluding any response.

The Charge of the Peacekeepers had begun.

* * *

The details of the full battle have been explored in my other, more public writings, but I will commit my own direct memories of the fighting to record here.

We rode ahead of the advance through the woods by the river, the enemy having given that area a wide berth for fear of ambush. I remember weaving through the trees quite vividly, heartbeat banging away in my ear, added to the hooves' beats of the horses behind me. Every few seconds, I'd look around to the left, expecting to see chevaliers coming to stop us. They didn't come, and eventually, we drew up alongside the enemy army. We dismounted the infantry quickly, and had the horseboys take our mounts to the river.

Blondie and Soprano wasted little time in arranging their people, our troops loading their weapons, while our … family group paced to the edge of the forest to see what else was happening. I was of course getting reports in my ear from the other colonels, but these were clipped. The fighting had started. I wanted to see it with my own eyes, and was in a decent place to do so, being on the raised embankment. I took out my binoculars and looked around.

First thing I saw was that there was a ruckus among the enemy's rear ranks, as they wheeled ranks soldiers towards us. Quite possibly enough to stop us. In theory. The thing most people forget in military calculations is the will to fight. Your numbers are always multiplied by the aggression of your own troops, and the same is true of the enemy. So, I was rather unimpressed by the forces arranging themselves against us. The Rangers were by far the most aggressive people around.

To the left of the gathering forces, the rest of the Peacekeepers were getting stuck in. Already, flurries of magical bolts were scurrying through the air, through the exchange of bolts and arrows. It looked like Pierre had brought up the rest of the Free Army too, and was closing in to close up the centre. Old Maurice and the nobles' troops weren't anywhere to be seen, but that was fine. If they stood their ground, I had ideas about turning the whole battle and rolling up their lines like rolling up a carpet.

I grinned to myself, as I saw it.

"Good news?" asked Ciara, having noticed me.

"We might have them by the balls," I replied.

"Ouch," Leha remarked.

"Very," I said, "Stick by me, we'll be going forwards soon."

Ciara nodded, and nocked her bow with a plate-piercing squarehead arrow. Tam and Julie followed suit, readying bow and firelance respectively, Leha having never slung her crossbow in the first place. I kept mine at my side. The time hadn't come yet.

The next cannon volley whirred through the air, straight into the front ranks of the largest body of footmen facing off against the Long-Spears. Even from a distance, the … pink mist was clearly visible, as dozens of men were killed and the rest put on notice. I could not help but think the latter insanely brave. One of my followers had different views.

"Maker save us," Louise de Villars said, clutching a pendant of Andraste, "I have not seen anything like that before."

She had foregone her mask for the moment, and had paled at the sight. I frowned, not at her squeamishness at seeing men ripped apart, as if by a force of nature rather than a tool of war. No, I simply realised that my betrayal of a principle I swore to defend had come at last.

" _And now I am become death_ ," I quoted, " _The destroyer of worlds_."

All heads turned to me, horrified. Except for Julie. She was familiar with the quote and the context in which it was most famously used. She simply smiled. Peace through strength; words quite literally tattooed on her, body and soul. Motto of her household now, and of more than half my grandchildren. However harsh that may be, I have had great reason to be glad that such a lesson has been passed on to them.

I saw that our chevaliers, now in half-plate for a frontal attack, and the Rangers were ready at the front. The Lancers remained to the rear. Soprano joined us, her hair and pointed ears poking out from under her Earth helmet, her form covered with kevlar. If it wasn't for the ears, she would have passed more or less.

"Colonel," I nodded, returning my gaze to the battle.

The battle had nearly closed to melee. The pikemen, their pikes at full length in battle for the first time, were almost in the enemy's gizzards. The enemy soldiers weren't stupid enough to simply run into them, and were backing off. Elsewhere, a few dozen _steilhandgranates_ were bursting in the enemy ranks as McNulty's boys closed the gap.

Perhaps most spectacular were the mages and Templars. Spirit blades and steel-rimmed shields, both moving to crush the enemy as one. I spotted Armen out front. Just as I began to wonder what the hell he was playing at, a gout of flame thirty feet long erupted from his staff like a flamethrower. Sticky flames too, not simply Fade-fire. He immolated thirty men, before Templars closed shields in front of him to deflect the crossbow bolts that were sure to come in retaliation. Armen's youth often struck me as at odds with his position among his kind, but if there is anything that demonstrates he was among equals at the top of the mage ranks, it is this display of elemental power.

"Looks like Armen has things well in hand," I said, "Colonel, Lady de Villars... stand to."

Soprano called over her sergeant, the same sergeant that had fetched me from Élodie's home before the Qunari-inspired riots.

"Bayonets," she said to her subordinates. The sergeant saluted.

"BAYONETS!" roared the sergeant. She was more quiet than Mike, now Colonel Mike, but loud enough to make my ears hurt.

The Rangers stood a step forward together, placed the butts of the firelances on the ground, and held the barrels out. In a single sweeping motion, they pulled the long, tapered silverite sword-bayonets from scabbards on their back, and locked them onto the bottoms of their weapons. As one, they brought their weapons to their shoulders, and reformed their line in closer order. It was parade-ground work they had done a thousand times. The hard part was to come.

The chevaliers drew their swords and moved in behind the Rangers, the typical arrangement of ranged and melee troops in Orlais.

"Okay, let's see..." I muttered, bringing up my binoculars yet again.

I immediately saw what I had been waiting for. The physical clash of soldiers had finally begun. 'Beard to beard' as the Bard would say. The enemy's front was now heavily engaged and could not withdraw. Furthermore, the troops sent to intercept us had finally formed up and were moving towards us. Perfect.

"That's it," I said to Soprano and Blondie, "Move out."

The drum beat the advance, and the Rangers stepped in unison, moving their weapons from their shoulders and into their hands. The Vice-Regal Guard paced behind, shields raised and swords resting on top of them. The Lancers trotted at the back.

We were up front, with a group of ten chevaliers. No real danger there; the troops across from us had no ranged weapons. All of those had been sent against the mages. It didn't take long for me to realise that they were favoured men though. No wooden shields and cheap spears for them. Chainmail, partial-plate and longswords. Similar enough to our own chevaliers, albeit cheaper. More expendable. There were a few more of them than us, but not by much. All I saw was dead men walking, as I unslung my own assault-firelance.

Tam and Ciara ran ahead a little, and started the fight. They loosed two arrows into the throng, catching their targets. It didn't do much, as far as I could tell, the padding underneath their armour doing much to stop the lethality of the arrows. Despite this, they began running towards us at a steady job.

"Halt," called Soprano, her voice echoing on the radio. The Rangers stopped, and tidied up their line. I took a knee in front. Julie and Leha copied me, aiming their weapons, while Ciara and Tam loosed another few speculative arrows. I considered joining in, but rejected the idea. No need to warn the enemy of what was coming. Soprano was on top of it now.

" _Presentez vos armes!"_

The Rangers brought their muzzle-loaded firelances up and cocked their flints. The enemy was about one hundred and twenty yards away and closing.

" _En joue!"_

The Rangers took aim, at the closest individual targets, as they had been trained to do.

" _FEU!"_

Our line erupted in noise and white smoke, as two hundred firelances went off at once. The minié balls struck home, the wounds sprouting like red flowers on the white-and-green tabards of their victims. The Black Lion of the House of Chalons had been dirtied with it, to boot. As had happened to the zealots we had put to the sword in Hearth, it wasn't simply a case of people being struck in the chest or gut. Limbs were lost, causing those behind and to the sides to stumble, as the unfortunate losers spun and fell. Yet they still came on.

"Julie," I said.

"Ready," she replied.

We brought up our own firelances, and began cracking off bursts. We targeted anyone who looked more important than the rest; anyone with feathers, a hat or a mask. By the time we had emptied our magazines, no one wearing those items was left to be seen.

" _En joue! FEU!"_

The second firelance volley from the Rangers ripped into the infantry formation at about seventy yards. It was far more deadly than the first, and opened holes in their lines large enough for carts to pass through. Yet still they came on.

But now, they had been whittled down enough for another move.

"Charge," I ordered, getting to my feet.

The chevaliers joined our firelancers' line, and we all ran at the enemy. Up went the rebel yell, filling the air with the chorus. The chevaliers even joined in, taken by the atmosphere of elation. Tam, Leha and Ciara drew their blades, and we charged home. The enemy still did not collapse into a rout.

Where Julie and I engaged, there was no great clash of sword and shield. We reaped with the scythe of Death herself, crippling or killing in relay, taking turns to fire. We had practised this. The occasional straggler was caught by Tam here, Ciara or Leha there, and killed with clinical precision in the peculiar ways each of them could bring. I was in my battle trance, the state of sheer concentration and bloodlust I fall into almost automatically, as you will have guessed if you have read the previous chapters. Julie was too, for the first time, I think. Tam could fall into such a state consciously.

Elsewhere, the battle was more intimate. The Rangers, having finished reloading on the advance, fired their firelances point-blank into the faces and guts of the swordsmen, before driving home with their bayonets. The chevaliers delivered the final stroke, ranging through the enemy ranks, protected by their armour and defensive skill. Pinned in place by the nobles, there was no retreat from the advance of the bayonets.

We killed them all. I don't remember after all these years if any even offered to surrender.

Next thing I know, I'm standing in the tangle of corpses, sweating like a pig. Our forces were regrouping, readying for my next move. Tam offered me a water skin, which I took with eagerness. Some of the water dripped down, and that drew my eyes to the ground.

Below me was a dead man, but something was off about him. I kicked off his helmet, he wouldn't mind, and discovered that he was a boy. Younger than Ciara without a doubt, probably about fifteen. Big for his age. A large, ragged hole from a minié in his heart, eyes looking up at the sky.

"Jesus Christ," I said, "They're putting kids on the field?"

Julie heard, and came over. Still bloodsplattered.

"Not everyone believes adulthood begins at eighteen, Sam," she said, "If you're big enough to swing a sword, you're old enough to go into battle. Many would agree."

I felt my chest tighten, not with disgust, but rage. I scanned the battle. Our entire line was in the fight now, but the rear of the enemy was completely exposed. Worse, they didn't even seem to realise it.

"Soprano, the way is clear for the Lancers," I said, "Send them in."

"Yes, my lord," she replied.

The elven colonel pulled a horn to her lips, and blew out a loud drone. The captain of the lancers blew his own horn in reply, and the cavalry began to move off towards the fight.

"We've won," said Julie, not quite believing it.

"Not yet," I replied, getting out my binoculars once more, "Almost."

* * *

A few minutes later, the lancers levelled their lances and charged. The effect was immediate. Already badly bloodied by the mages and cannons, the enemy left flank broke and ran. McNulty, Mike, Velarana and Armen, obeying the principles I had taught them and getting the general idea of what I had intended, rolled our troops leftwards like a great jaw, moving up in support of the centre rather than chasing down the fleeing troops. This no doubt saved Pierre and the rest of the Free Army from eventual defeat; they were still badly outnumbered.

I was very satisfied, and put away my binoculars with renewed hope for a crushing victory. Sure enough, more enemy companies began breaking off from the fight, albeit in more order than their comrades had, trying to escape the sprung trap.

The sound of neighing horses caught my attention. I turned, and I wasn't the only one, looking about for the source of the noise.

Out of the forests that began on the foothills, came a group of chevaliers. At their head was a large man in a yellow mask, a stylised moustache on its enamelled lip. The Rangers immediately formed a square to repel cavalry, and began reloading their firelances. Our own chevaliers rallied to Louise de Villars and I, in the middle of the square.

"They're not going to charge, are they?" I asked the Lady. There were enough horsemen to get in close before we could kill them all. In theory.

"Doubtful, their swords are sheathed, and their banners held at half-post," Louise replied, with some hesitation, "That is the Marquis DuRellion. He may be overlord of the Emprise, but he is not for Gaspard."

"So what does he want?" asked Tam, bringing her bow back over her shoulder.

"We shall see," Louise replied rudely, "Patience, Qunari."

Tam growled back an insult, and Julie shouldered her firelance. Just in case. Louise did not respond to this, to my immense gratitude. Eventually, the Marquis got close enough to talk to.

"That's far enough," shouted Soprano, "State your business or be fired upon."

"I am the Marquis DuRellion, commander of the forces of the Emprise and Royal Governor," he said, "I come to negotiate my surrender."

The colonel looked back at me, but I said and did nothing. I wasn't going to speak to the man while his army was still fighting. She got the picture, and turned back.

"Your army continues to fight," Soparno replied, thumbing over her shoulder at the deteriorating situation in the farmlands beyond, "Order an immediate and unconditional surrender, and you will not be harmed."

DuRellion flinched, his horse shifting its weight in response to the gesture.

"My army is not my army," he replied, "They are already retreating, to fight another day. I do not wish to continue this pointless conflict. What forces are under my control will lay down their arms, but I cannot guarantee the compliance of the other nobles."

I stepped forward, through the ranks of the Rangers. Alone. I made sure of that, waving to Julie and Tam to stay put. They could cover me from inside the infantry square anyway. I moved close enough so that shouting wasn't required to speak, so I could have a civilised conversation.

"I am the Marquis de La Fayette," I said, "Are you familiar with who I am?"

"The Outlander," DuRellion replied flatly, "Legate Tiberius in Halamshiral was very fond of talking about you and your exploits this past winter. You're from another world, if I am to believe what I am told."

I nodded. "That is true," I said, "Meaning that it would be foolish to be stubborn, considering that only the Maker could have brought me here." Nothing like a little religious blackmail.

"I will not lose my lands and titles to you," he said, "Those are my only terms."

"I refuse," I said immediately, "In a few hours, there will be no army left to defend your lands and I can take them as I please. Not for myself, of course, but to return to the people that work them. The commons, the merchants and petty nobles. The _real_ people. There is no reason for you and your family to be put in danger, when you undoubtedly have other lands to which you can move and live comfortably. Just not in the Dales."

"And if I refuse?" DuRellion asked.

"I will do nothing to you," I said, "It is not my place... But I will turn you over to the people to judge and punish, as they see fit. I understand their opinion of fattened aristocrats has dropped lately. Who knows what they might come up with?" I had quite the self-satisfied, shit-eating grin on my face by this point, I am quite sure. Alas, I was taking a great deal of pleasure in this, even if he was a Celene loyalist.

DuRellion said nothing, his eyes moving upwards to the sky as he thought about it. I knew already that he would agree. To disagree would mean death, or throwing his lot in with Gaspard. Most likely just the latter, whether it was at that moment or weeks later when I could shatter his castles with my heavy artillery.

He drew his sabre, backwards with the blade down, and threw it at my feet. His chevaliers did the same in turn, followed by their longswords and daggers.

"I accept your surrender," I said.

Victory and Sahrnia were ours.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments make me happy, constructive criticism is also very much appreciated.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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